


To Carthage then I came

by ButTheLyreStillPlays



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Drama & Romance, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButTheLyreStillPlays/pseuds/ButTheLyreStillPlays
Summary: AU Spamano. Lovino Vargas is a barman with a past, a quick temper, little tolerance for people, and a bad personality. Of course it would be just his luck that a new customer to his workplace is a certain Spaniard who ignores this, seems impossible to shake off, and won't take no for an answer.
Relationships: South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Lovino Vargas was not a happy person. Or even much of a _pleasant_ person. That much was obvious to just about anyone who had ever met him. With a bad personality, a quick temper backed up by a bad mouth to go with it, a lack of tact, and a vocabulary at times so colourful it made rainbows look drab, it was a wonder he still had his barkeeping job at all. And that was even despite restraining his words intensely with customers. Presently he was faced with someone he just _knew_ he was going to have difficulty restraining himself with. The customer opposite him waiting to order was a tanned man; messy brown hair, sparkling green eyes, a white shirt with some logo he didn’t recognise, tight enough to show off a rather toned body and a grin that gave the impression that he was one of those people who smiled far, _far_ too much. There could be no doubt that he was one of those guys who probably grinned in their sleep, and for someone like Lovino who went through life with a frown etched on their face most of the time there was nothing endearing to it. There was nothing natural in smiling all the time, he mused. He imagined the man probably had success with women – he’d have no success endearing himself to Lovino. For a few seconds he thought about pretending to be busy serving someone else or restocking the place and to let Manon – his Belgian fellow barkeep – deal with the guy. But there was no one else waiting at the counter at this moment and Manon wasn’t in for another hour. He blew air out his nose softly, relaxing himself as best he could before contorting his face into the neutral expression he forced on for customers and giving the man a nod.

“Evening, sir. What will it be?” he asked, crossing his arms. It paid to be polite; it was inviting nuisance to be friendly.

The man's grin spread wider as he sat himself down on the stool. “Just some sangria and your name will do,” he said, his English coming out with a slight – what was that? Spanish? - accent. Lovino let his frown return. That single sentence and seating at the bar were red flags if ever there were any. _Fucking great, he's one of_ those _guys,_ he spat mentally, ignoring the man's second query and nodding before silently turning around to get the drink. Another one of those people who thought that clearly the bartender was just _dying_ to have a good conversation with some increasingly drunk stranger – or indeed, by the look of the beaming, slightly swaying man: already halfway drunk. Lovino didn't get along with most people when they were sober, let alone when they were drunk, noisy, and spouting crap all over the place while thinking their half-slurred jokes were irresistible. He silently set the glass of sangria down in front of the guy and took the money that he offered, counting the change with practised ease and all but throwing it down before him. The damned man was still smiling happily like he didn't have a care in the world. _Probably one of those fuckers that can't read the atmosphere for shit too_ , Lovino grumbled silently. He took time to warm up to people. A long time. Longer than most people could put up with him. And that was mostly only when he made the effort, and quite often his quick temper prevented that. Someone unable to pick up on simple body language and non-verbal cues like this was anathema to him.

“ _Gracias_ ,” the guy said. Definitely Spanish, or maybe Mexican or South American, Lovino couldn’t tell. Or just someone who thought it was oh-so-sexy to speak Spanish to strangers. “So, a cute guy like you must have a cute name to go with it, _sí_?” _Fucking great, here we go,_ _didn’t get the hint_ _._ Lovino said nothing, simply crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, looking away like he’d heard nothing and was looking for other customers to serve. Did people really do that? Mix languages together thinking it was somehow sexier or gave an air of sophistication, or something? It's not like he ever dropped random Italian into his speech unless particularly pissed off or drunk. All it succeeded in doing was making conversation harder for those who didn't know the language. He could only hope for the sake of everyone who met the guy that this idiot only did it when flirting tipsily, not in all conversation. “Mine's Antonio,” the man continued, apparently oblivious to the obvious disinterest on Lovino's part. How much had he already had to drink to be so unable to see that Lovino was not interested in talking? Lovino was alone on the bar for the moment and he certainly hadn't served him before, maybe he'd come in from some other bar. He had to physically bite his tongue just to avoid spewing an irritated or insulting retort. It wasn't like he hadn't been hit on by customers before, even a few male ones, but most got the message when Lovino ignored them or replied shortly and so moved on to flirt with other, more receptive and open people. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was people who didn't understand simple non-verbal cues.

He was already tired and irritated from a long shift and was sorely tempted to tell Antonio – in very graphic terms – just what he could do with his name, but he had already previously been warned by his boss that excessive rudeness to customers wasn't 'conducive to keeping your job'. So instead he simply scowled at the man, hoping he'd finally get the hint and leave him alone. “Really? Congratulations, if you'll excuse me though,” he said, before blowing air through his teeth in irritation and looking away, pushing himself up from the wall as if about to move off to serve another customer. There was no one else at the bar for the moment though, so instead he simply turned to face the rack of spirits, pretending to be checking them.

“Hey, your accent, Italian is it?” the other man asked, still oblivious to Lovino's attempts at – politely as he could – getting him to go away.

Lovino gritted his teeth before answering with a curt, “Yes it is. Well done, I'm Italian, no prizes for guessing.” He should have gone for that warehouse job, dealing with drunk customers had been the worst idea yet.

“I like it. I'm Spanish myself-”

Lovino sighed, half-turning and sending the man a pointed glare. “Spanish? Amazing, I think my horoscope warned me about you, something to do with irritants and headaches.” _And persistent bastards._ He'd already dropped most pretence of being polite and at this rate he was going to just have to just out and out tell the Spaniard to leave him alone, consequences of such direct rudeness be damned. At what point did it become harassment, anyway? Any normal person by now would have concluded that Lovino was not interested, hell, most normal people would have concluded by now that he had either had a bad day and should be left alone, was an angry jerk and thus not worth the time, or most likely was probably straight or taken and thus quite annoyed at having some stranger trying to flirt with him.

“Loviiiiiiii!” A loud voice suddenly rang out as Lovino's brother Feliciano made his way to the counter, taking a seat and all-but resting himself on the bar, an empty glass in his hand.

“Feli, fuck, no need to scream,” Lovino said, frowning and sending his younger brother a rather unimpressed stare as Feliciano came all-but-skipping to the bar. He was only answered with a wide grin however. He could already tell Feliciano had drunk enough to be quite tipsy, especially if he was being that loud already.

“ _Ve,_ sorry, I just wanted another drink.” That stupid verbal tic again, he’d never understood how Feliciano had developed it in English.

“Same thing?”

“Yep!”

Seated on the barstool besides him, Antonio looked over at Feliciano, then at Lovino, then at his drink before laughing. “ _¡Dios mío!_ I'm seeing double already? I didn't think I'd had that much.”

Lovino scowled down at the Spaniard, rolling his eyes. “We're brothers, genius.”

“Twins?”

“No.” And with that short answer Lovino turned away to get Feliciano's drink. Noticing that the bottle was finished, he went out back to get another and by the time he came back Antonio and Feliciano were talking away, already deep in conversation. Lovino rolled his eyes. _Thank fuck,_ _at least that’ll_ _stop that oblivious idiot harassing me all night,_ he thought, setting the drink down in front of Feliciano and taking the money Feli had already put down. He counted up and placed the change down in front of his brother before moving off in case either of them thought to try and involve him in their inane prattle. Being such a naturally gregarious person, Feliciano had it in his head that all Lovino needed was to meet 'the right person' and suddenly he'd be a social butterfly, something which gave Lovino no end of irritation since his brother always insisted on trying to drag Lovino into any conversation possible. His intentions were certainly good, but that didn't change the fact that it was annoying as hell. He frown deepened. _That’s not how it works anyway. That’s never how it’s worked._ Something old and tired twisted in his stomach and he pushed the thoughts out his mind and forced his focus back on work.

His eyes scanned over the bar but seeing no customers waiting to be served, he turned his back on the counter and leant against it, running a hand through his messy hair with a sigh. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 9:30pm. His shift ended in a half-hour when Manon – the owner's sister – would serve the few remaining customers on her own until the bar eventually closed at half-past midnight. He was lucky it was not a Wednesday or Friday, when the bar took advantage of the themed nights at the nearby club and had special offers, growing intensely packed and staying open to 3am.

“Hey, Lovi!” a voice called behind him. He spun round, and his eyes soon locked onto the caller. Antonio – that infuriating grin still plastered on his face, _of course_ – was waving his empty glass, obviously asking for a refill. Besides him, Feliciano, who was making no secret that he was already quite tipsy, was also waving his own – already half-empty – glass, giggling at something, not that Feliciano ever particularly needed a _reason_ to laugh, especially when drunk.

Lovino scowled, moving over to the pair. “It's Lovino,” he told the Spaniard, narrowing his eyes in what he could only hope was an intimidating way. He was really beginning to have more than enough of this idiot. He couldn't wait for his shift to end so he could get away from him.

“Huh?”

“My name. It's Lovino, so don't call me Lovi.”

“Aww, but Lovi is much cuter. It suits you better!”

Lovino snatched the empty glass from the man's hand. “Fuck, will you stop saying shit like that!” Any pretence of politeness was lost now.

“But it's true!” Antonio protested.

Besides him Feliciano nodded furiously. “ _Si! Si, si!_ Lovi's nicer!” he said, emptying his glass and waving it at Lovino, before giving a hiccup and dissolving into a small giggling fit.

Lovino didn't bother to ask Antonio what he wanted, simply refilling the glass with more of the same. He all-but slammed it in front of the man, then glared at Feliciano, taking the glass from his hand. “And you,” he told his brother, a frown etching itself on his face, “are not drinking any more tonight.”

“But Lovino I only-”

“Had too much and am being unbearable, _I know_. Pretty obvious considering how you just downed half that drink and are barely staying up on that stool.”

Lovino heard Antonio chuckle and immediately rounded on him, glaring furiously. “And what the fuck are you laughing at?” he snapped. Politeness was dead and buried now, certainly.

Antonio held up his hands in defence, still chuckling slightly. “Nothing! I wasn't laughing at you, I swear! It's just cute the way you're looking out for Feliciano.”

“Jesus Christ! Is 'cute' the only adjective in your dictionary? Seriously, bastard, of course I'm gonna look after him. Look at him, he's a naïve wreck who can barely look after himself. He's one drink away from either singing the national anthem under the table, or singing it dancing _on_ the table!”

Antonio gave a little snort of laughter before grinning wide. “Aw, come on, I'm sure he can look after himself fine.”

Lovino gave an irritated sigh, resting both hands on the counter and leaning over to glare at Antonio straight in his green eyes. “What? You flirt with him for twenty fucking minutes and suddenly you've got a better idea of what kind of guy he is than the brother who's looked after him his entire life?” He hadn’t meant to come across so dramatically, but Antonio was increasingly beginning to fray his nerves, and the apparently lack of any self-awareness from the man was only worsening his anger.

Despite his feelings though, Lovino’s tone was rather calm, however his reaction must have surprised Antonio as the man put up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “N-no, that's not what I meant! I just-”

Lovino only sighed again, blowing air through his teeth in an effort to remember his job and calm down, pushing himself up off the counter and giving the man what he hoped was as neutral an expression as he could muster. “Whatever. I'll let you two get back to your chatter and go and do my 'over-protective and overbearing brother' shtick from a distance, how's that sound?” He wasn't quite sure what exactly he was trying to achieve, except maybe vent a bit against the man who'd irritated him so much ever since he'd stepped into the bar.

“I didn't mean to-” Antonio began helplessly, only to trail off as Lovino spun round on his heel, marching to the other end of the counter where another customer was waiting for a refill, a curious and amused expression on her face at the apparent sight of the barman arguing with another customer, seemingly mistaking it for banter between friends or regulars. _As if_. After serving her and the three after, Lovino glanced over at Antonio and Feliciano. The two were back in conversation, Feliciano telling some story complete with his usual flurry of gestures. Antonio had already finished his second glass, and held it up, glancing over towards Lovino, only to be met with a glare that made him almost sheepishly put the glass down and turn back to talking with Feliciano. Lovino felt some stupid pride in having apparently managed to cow the man from bothering him further. Sighing once again, he leant against the counter, eyes glancing to the clock. Before he had time to react a hand came from outside his field of vision, pinching his cheek and pulling it half up out of the scowl that still occupied his face.

“Jesus fuckin-!” he swore, jerking his head back and swatting the hand away. He turned around and found himself faced with the smiling face of Manon, his co-worker.

“Don’t blaspheme. You're scowling again and I saw you glare daggers at the guy talking to your brother,” she said, amusement in her voice as she chided him like a kid, dropping her bag out of sight under the counter and running a hand through her blonde hair. “What'd he do?”

“Nothing, jeez. Just another annoying guy.”

“Oh please.” The Belgian woman laughed, leaning against the counter. “You think that about _all_ guys, but you tend to be able to restrain yourself and not scare them out of getting another drink.” She grinned before her tone turned a few shades more serious. “You're lucky Lars didn't catch you doing that.” Lars, Manon's half-brother, was the owner of the bar. He was a large Dutchman – he and Manon shared a father and though initially raised separately in their separate countries, had all-but-grown up together with constant visits – who tolerated Lovino so long as he didn't keep customers away. Lovino had never understood why but he wasn’t going to question it.

“Your brother would probably be too stoned to notice,” Lovino mumbled, absent-mindedly tracing a finger around the rim of an empty beer glass. It was true that Lars probably would have taken a dim view of Lovino's snapping at a customer. The Dutchman had already warned Lovino several times that if he didn't rein his temper in he'd have to be let go. There was some irony in the fact that – like Lovino – Lars himself didn't smile that much either, his face usually stuck in a neutral or bored look. Sometimes Lovino wondered if the fact that Lars gave him some leeway and didn't mind him not being all smiles with the customers was the fact that the Dutchman himself wasn't. Still, aside from that it often seemed to Lovino that the only reason he still had his job was because of his friendship with Manon. The girl refusing to let her brother fire Lovino was very much the sort of thing she'd do. Letting her have her way as long as Lovino wasn’t outright antagonising customers was very much the sort of thing _he’d_ do.

Manon laughed. “Oh, come on, it's not like he's some hippie always high on drugs.”

Lovino grinned over to her. “Really? That's a damn good disguise he's got then, fooled me completely. All he needs is to learn how to smile, grow his hair long, and to make a few peace signs, maybe some rose-tinted glasses. We could have him as bar mascot.”

Manon swatted his shoulder with a hand, still laughing. “Better not let him hear you. Or he'll take the disguise off and you'll see the professional side of him.”

“Where is our _professional_ dear leader, anyway? You took his shift before I got here, didn't you?”

Manon giggled in a conspiratorial way. “He's got a _date,_ ” she said, sounding less like a grown woman and more like a little girl who thought the fact that her brother was dating someone was some kind of dirty secret not to be spoken aloud.

Lovino grimaced. “A date with him? That must be _great fun_. All mumbling, smoke, and gruff silence.”

Manon seemed on the verge of saying something to defend her brother but settled for throwing a wash-cloth at Lovino. He tossed it right back, to a giggle from the woman, and they continued their banter for a couple of minutes more before Manon stopped them. “You’re terrible! But I'd better get on to work, unless you want to oh-so-kindly help me serve the last few drunks here. I'd better go serve that guy before he dies of thirst out of fear of ordering anything that might make you pay attention to him.” She winked, and with that she moved past Lovino over to Antonio and Feliciano who were still deep in conversation, the two grinning and giggling like kids. Lovino watched them for a few seconds, torn between either leaving or making sure that Feli got back safely in the state he was in, glancing over at his brother. Antonio must have noticed him looking because their eyes met briefly and he gave Lovino a small smile, raising his – still empty, he'd apparently refused a refill after all – glass in a sort of apologetic gesture. Lovino simply frowned back, not responding, and spun round to turn his back on the man.

He spent a few seconds pretending he was busy tidying something in hopes of getting the Spaniard to think he was still working and stop staring at him, then turned back. “Hey, Manon?” he called after the barmaid. She spun around, raising an eyebrow in query. “Don't let Feliciano drink anything more.” Manon laughed, no doubt by now she was well used to Lovino taking charge of Feliciano's well-being, and he knew that he could trust her to make sure his brother left safely. Despite an audible protest from Feliciano behind her, she nodded, waving Lovino off before turning to talk with Feliciano.

Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, Lovino went to the restroom quickly before going behind back to get his jacket. He took a few moments in the backroom, leaning on the wall, blowing air though his nose and relaxing away from the customers, calming himself after what had seemed like an irritating last hour. Blinking tiredly, he pulled his jacket on before returning out to the front, eyes looking across the room. There were already only about a dozen people left at most, Thursdays were always pretty calm and manageable. He glanced briefly over to Feliciano who was babbling to a smiling and nodding Manon. How she put up with him in his drunken state was beyond Lovino. As much as he loved his brother, he was too much Feli's opposite. It took him a second to realise that Antonio seemed to have gone. _Good riddance_ , Lovino thought with a wry grin to himself. He was happy to see that idiotic Spaniard gone, and more-so to see him away from Feli. Had it been a few years previous he would have taken a much more active role in making Antonio back off. During his teens Lovino had been over-protective to a fault towards his younger brother. Eventually, Feliciano had actually _snapped_ at his brother to stop messing up his personal life. Up till then Lovino had been sure he was protecting his kid brother from all sorts of dangerous people who would use his innocence and naivety. It had certainly been a nasty shock.

His stomach knotted again, he fiddled with the strings on his jacket and pushed the memories out of his mind. Now frowning, he buttoned his jacket. In the end the truth was that Feliciano had always been more than capable of looking after himself. He made friends easily, he could get smiles from even the hardest of peoples, and as carefree as he acted, he was always on top of situations. Lovino would have been lying if he'd pretended not to be slightly jealous of his brother, what with his distinct lack of social skills and his trigger temper. Lovino acted like he was on top of everything but- _I make do_. He forced the thoughts out again. _I make do,_ he repeated mentally. Who needed the judgment that social life brought anyway?

Reaching the entrance, he took a second to briefly wave goodbye to Manon and Feliciano before leaving the bar – and walking straight into someone standing just in front of the door. The impact made him stumble backwards and his foot got caught on the step, sending Lovino crashing into the door-frame and down onto the floor.

A voice came through the torrent of swearing and cursing Lovino unleashed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “ _¡Dios mío!_ Sorry! I was just putting my jacket on and-” The voice trailed off as Lovino looked up with the angriest glare he could muster as he connected that Spanish-accented voice to its owner.

He swatted the offered helping hand out of the way and pulled himself up on his own. “Jesus fucking Christ! The fuck did you think you were doing standing in the middle of the way, you bastard!? What? You fucking forgot how your shitty excuses for legs work?” There was no attempt to be polite here, not anymore.

“I'm really sorry! I just stopped two seconds to put my jacket on and-” The Spaniard seemed so apologetic, almost to the point of stammering that Lovino felt the will to stand there and shout more insults at the man leave him.

He made a harrumphing noise, crossing his arms. “Fine, whatever. Apology accepted. Just go-”

“I'm glad I caught you though, Lovi- uh, I mean Lovino”

“What?” Lovino said, mouth curling down into a scowl. _Jeez, he's not gonna start flirting and shit out here too is he? What a creep._

“I just wanted to apologize if I offended you in there when I was talking about Feliciano. And well, just in general.”

“Oh.” Lovino shrugged, having mostly pushed the incident to the back of his mind. People often told him that he was over-protective towards Feliciano. He put back on a neutral expression and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I wasn't offended.” He was used to it.

A relieved grin enveloped Antonio's face. He seemed a bit more lucid now, not having any more to drink might have helped sober him just a tad. “Oh, good! I was worried I upset you. You just seemed pretty angry-”

Lovino gave him a pointed look. “Might have something to do with the Spaniard who's been bothering me all night.”

Antonio gave a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “O-oh, well I didn't mean to be a bother. I just wanted to talk, and you seemed like a cool guy, y'know, cute and-”

Yet another scowl flashed onto Lovino's face as he dropped his previous calm. “Fucking hell. Do you ever stop? It's all 'cute this' and 'cute that'. Coming on strong don’t you think?”

A look of utter confusion swept across Antonio's face. _“_ Wh-what?”

“Ugh, whatever. Good night.” And with that, Lovino moved past the tanned man, moving down the street into the night, ignoring a few confused apologies from the Spaniard behind him and leaving him there.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovino had already forgotten the Spaniard from a few days earlier by the time Friday came around. He went about his usual morning routine, same as he did every Friday: making breakfast, a quick shower and then a trip down to the morning market at the town centre. He often went down to the market on Fridays for fresh fruit and vegetables for the week's cooking. It was perhaps more expensive than buying them at a supermarket but you couldn't put a price on good fresh food. It wasn't because he wasn't rolling in money that he was going to put his culinary pride aside. He had standards, and he’d keep them. Putting on his jacket, he left the apartment, heading down for the streets.

His small apartment was in a pretty cheap part of town – working as a bartender didn't exactly make for a lot of money to spend on a fancy place in a good neighbourhood. That said, it wasn't too far from the town centre: a half-hours’ walk if you took the alley shortcuts. The crowds thronged around him as he made his way into the market square, taking in the smells of the place as he looked round to spy out the stands carrying what he wanted. The smell of the food stalls, the sizzling of meats, the hawking of the vendors, the colours of all the stalls. You couldn't just take the first thing you saw, the quality of the food made all the difference in a meal and it was more than worth it to spend a bit more time and money to find the freshest fruit or vegetables rather than simply take the first or the cheapest you saw. This was all he really had to look forward to during the week, to see what was in season, what he could get.

A little over half an hour later, he found himself with his arms loaded with a bag full of assorted fruits and vegetables. That was when he spotted Antonio.

It took Lovino a few seconds to recognise the tanned man from last night, having not expected to see him again – much less at the market of all places – and it was with a mounting sense of irritation and annoyance that he saw Antonio turn around, one arm likewise laden with a paper bag no doubt filled with sundry fruit or vegetables. Lovino turned to move off, keeping a wary eye on the Spaniard as he did so. _Don't see me, fuck, please don't see-_

“Lovino?” Antonio's face lit up with the giant grin Lovino suddenly remembered all-too-well from last night. _Fuck_. He tried to ignore the man by pretending not to have heard, continuing to move off in the desperate hope he could still avoid having to deal with him again. What kind of person would come up to talk to the barman they’d met two days earlier and left on poor terms with? “Hey! Lovino!” Antonio called again. Ah. _That_ kind of person.

Lovino gritted his teeth as Antonio hurried up to him, still flashing his winning-smile. “Oh. You again? What do you want?” Lovino said, contorting his face in to expression mid-scowl and mid-neutral and uncaring, his tone further making it clear that he had no desire to talk to the man. Maybe now that he was completely sober Antonio would get the message and leave him alone.

“Nothing, I'm just surprised to see you here. I didn't know you came to this market!” Of course, he wouldn’t.

“Hardly surprising considering you fucking met me just a few days ago and we barely spoke. I also live in this town, funnily enough.”

Antonio laughed, apparently taking Lovino's sarcasm for a joke, running his one free hand through his messy brown hair. “Yeah, that's true.” He hesitated a few seconds before flashing Lovino another grin. “I'd love to get to know you better though! Hey, if you're free after you finish shopping maybe we could get a coffee or something? Maybe with Feli?” His bright eyes and easy smile made it clear that somehow, he thought there was some chance – no matter how small – that Lovino would accept.

Lovino's reaction though was simply to stare for a few seconds in disbelief. _How can you be so fucking oblivious!?_ he raged internally. It wasn't normal for people to completely miss the obvious signs like this. He'd snapped at the man, he'd insulted him, his tone had never strayed above cordial and averaged at glacial. How was it possible to be so completely deaf to obvious signs? Was it because Antonio apparently hit it off with Feliciano? _Had_ he hit it off with Feli? Lovino just couldn’t understand Antonio’s behaviour. He frowned at the man, making a dismissive noise. “Can't,” he replied shortly, “busy today.”

“Oh.” Antonio's face fell, but in a few seconds his smile was back again, natural as anything.

“Well, Feliciano and I are meeting up again tomorrow, how about if you're free then?”

 _Again?_ “Can't,” Lovino repeated, gritting his teeth slightly, keeping his voice level to avoid making any sort of a scene in the crowded market, “busy rest of this week.” Was that it after all? Antonio desperately trying to make friends with him because he was Feliciano’s brother? He’d had his share of people trying to befriend him to get closer to his brother before. A familiar knot tightened in his stomach, he forced the thoughts from his mind and blew air through his teeth.

Antonio persisted. “How about next week?”

Lovino gripped his bag of shopping tighter, knuckles turning white. “Busy today, this week, and forever more.”

The Spaniard gave a wry grin. “Forever more? You'll want to watch that you don't overwork yourself at that rate.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, blowing air out his teeth. _To hell with subtlety._ “It's less stressful than dealing with you.” Antonio looked crestfallen, his smile dropping. A surge of vicious pleasure shot through Lovino as he saw this, as though proud that he'd finally proved that the Spaniard's obliviousness had a limit.

Antonio ran his hand through his hair again, rubbing the back of his head. “I, uh, I don't mean to be stressful, sorry,” he said, his shoulders slumping slightly as he glanced away from Lovino.

Much like last night, he seemed so apologetic – even though Lovino had given the man no reason whatsoever to care about being stressful to him or not – that Lovino felt slightly guilty about it. Sometimes Antonio reminded him of a small kid wanting to please and then being crushed when he was told off, and that itself reminded him unpleasantly of himself as a kid. Familiar knot, stomach, push thoughts out. “Whatever. Just learn to read the actual atmosphere a bit, that's all,” he mumbled dismissively, shifting his eyes sideways. There were these occasional flashes of something about Antonio, he realised, something that just seemed to calm Lovino down somewhat even when it was the Spaniard himself who riled him up. Antonio would stick his own foot in his mouth, then apologise like a scolded puppy afterwards and make it hard to do anything but try to mitigate any hurt.

The tanned man made a noise halfway between an awkward chuckle and an actual laugh. “You're not the first person to say that,” he admitted, a small smile back on his face. His tone made it clear that it was something he’d been told often.

Lovino let a small smile touch his lips. “I'd honestly be shocked if I was.” He relaxed slightly, at least it seemed that Antonio’s oblivious lack of self-awareness wasn’t limited to Lovino then.

There was silence between the two of them for a few seconds and Lovino had hoped to use it to make an excuse and leave but Antonio spoke before he could. “So, what were you looking for?” he asked, before adding, “Uh, here at the market I mean.” As though it hadn't been obvious that that was what he was asking.

Lovino was sorely tempted to say that he'd done all his shopping and was going home now, just to get away from this conversation. But in truth he still had some stuff to pick up and – damn it all – it wasn't this Spanish bastard who was going to stop him from getting his weekly shopping done just because he couldn't understand simple hints to leave people alone. He had that much stubbornness at least. “Just some tomatoes,” he replied, letting his voice fall back into its gruffer tone, his face neutral.

To his horror this seemed to delight Antonio, a wide smile lighting up his features. “Oh, I love tomatoes! I know a stall here that sells some really delicious ones! Here I'll show you!” He held out his free hand as though honestly expecting Lovino to _actually_ grasp it. Lovino simply gave him an incredulous stare and didn't move.

Undaunted, Antonio gently clasped Lovino's shoulder and before he could do anything had spun him round and was steering him forward. “The fuck?! Hey! Don't push me around! Get the fuck off me, you damn bastard!” Lovino snapped, swatting the Spaniard's hand away and sending his elbow hard back into Antonio's shoulder. He pulled himself free and took a step back, almost shaking from surprise and anger and all-too-conscious of the stares of the other people around them. In a bid to avoid making a larger scene he gave the other man a scowl and sighed, voice lowering back to a calmer – if frozen – tone. “I can follow perfectly fine without being steered around like a cow.” There really was no escaping the Spaniard’s enthusiasm, he mused. He’d let Antonio show him this stall, buy his tomatoes if the price and quality were decent, and then finally get home and away from the man for good.

Antonio gave an apologetic smile, raising his hands in a calming gesture, looking genuinely embarrassed for a few seconds. “Sorry! Got sorta carried away.” Then he beckoned and ploughed ahead in the crowd, moving towards the edges of the market. For a few seconds Lovino stood there, breath returning to normal, a scowl on his face and a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He considered simply slipping away, by the time Antonio noticed he would be lost in the crowd. However he decided against it. He was stubborn to a point, he needed tomatoes and he wasn't going to let some idiot with no concept of personal space or leaving-people-the-fuck-alone stop him from getting them. It was just a bad moment he needed to get through, that was all, after this he was free. At least that was what he told himself again as he followed after the other man, who by now had stopped for him, turning around and waving.

The stall Antonio had been talking about stood right at the edge of the market, tended to by an old man who seemed half-asleep. Antonio turned to grin at Lovino. “Here, I'll buy them for you. How many do you want?”

Lovino could only gape at the Spaniard. “What? No. I'll buy my own tomatoes, _thank you very much_ ,” He moved to push past the other man, muttering a small “Bastard.” under his breath.

Antonio stopped him, a genuinely confused look on his face. “What? It's because I know the stall owner, he always slips me some extras, so if I buy them then you can have some extra too! You can pay me back of course.”

Lovino hesitated, caught between his pride and the promise of a few extra free tomatoes. Eventually the promise of free food came out on top and he relented. “Fine, but I'm paying you back dammit, I don't accept – or need – charity. Especially yours, you crazy bastard.” He stood back while he watched Antonio discuss with the old man for what seemed like an eternity. Apparently the two knew each other quite well indeed, if the long inquest into how each other and how the old man's family were doing was any show. Once or twice he thought he saw Antonio gesture over to him and the old man glance in his direction and so Lovino moved slightly away, letting a frown fall on his face in the hopes of discouraging any one of them from trying to draw him into their inane conversation. It was bad enough having to put up with Antonio, he didn't need to be ganged up against with some random stall-vendor too. Either it worked or the two had never had any desire to include him in the conversation because they continued wrapped up in their own little talk for several more moments, Antonio even writing something down at some point as the man seemed to chuckle. Soon enough the Spaniard was back, two bags of tomatoes in hand while the old man waved him off, still laughing at something and sat back down in his chair, clearing intent on dozing off again. It was a wonder he didn't have people simply stealing his produce with how little he seemed to pay attention.

Antonio held out one of the bags of tomatoes to Lovino, still grinning like he'd won the lottery. Whatever he and the stall-vendor had been talking about, it had clearly put him in an excellent mood. Not that he really seemed to have many other moods. “There you go, and he even offered three for free. You can have them.”

Lovino didn't meet Antonio's gaze, his face neutral as he took the bag. Three extra tomatoes was nice, but he wasn't happy that it was thanks to Antonio that he'd got them, it gave the feeling of being indebted to the guy and the last thing Lovino wanted was to owe him anything, not when he mostly wanted to be shot of the man. He could only pray that Antonio wouldn't think that Lovino owed him something in return. Still, it had been kind of the Spaniard, he supposed. “Thanks, I guess. How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much do I owe you for these?” He was worried for a few seconds that Antonio would try to insist he didn't need to pay, that it was a gift or something, which would only make the feelings of indebtedness worse. But Antonio did not try to twist the words, apparently recognising Lovino’s stubbornness on that point, instead simply telling him the amount. Soon enough Lovino had given him the money back to his relief. There was a few seconds silence as the two stood slightly awkwardly on the edge of the market, the crowd going past them to the other stalls.

“So,” Antonio said after a while, all while Lovino tried to think of an excuse to escape, “still no for that coffee?”

“No means no.”

Antonio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah, sorry. Well if you're fr-”

“I need to be going,” Lovino interrupted. _To hell with subtlety and tact._ “Things to do...I- thanks for the tomatoes.” He’d almost outright said ‘better things to do’, but something stopped him, not wanting be too rude to the man who had gotten him extra tomatoes despite Lovino’s constant verbal abuse and cold-shoulder treatment.

Antonio looked slightly crestfallen but he nodded nonetheless, giving Lovino a small smile. “Ye-yeah of course! Well I'll see you around, I guess? Meeting up with Feli again, like I said, we should all go for a coffee or drink sometime!”

“Mhm,” was Lovino’s only reply, a dismissive, non-committed sound. He didn’t like that Antonio seemed to be already becoming friends with Feliciano. If anything, it meant he’d be seeing the damn Spaniard again. Antonio didn’t say anything more, so Lovino simply shrugged, giving he man a wave and then turning around and leaving off into the crowd again. It was not far back to his apartment, and twenty minutes later he was back inside. He placed the bags of groceries down onto the table counter and began to put everything into its place. When he came onto the tomatoes he emptied them into the container and a piece of paper fell with them, having apparently been stuffed at the bottom of the bag. For a second he thought it was a receipt, but it rather seemed to be a hastily-scrawled message. Curious, he picked it up, bringing it up to read it:

_Hey Lovino, if your schedule frees up at any point I'd love to see you again, maybe get a coffee or something? Here's my number if you want to at any point:_

_Take care!_

_Antonio_

At the bottom there was – indeed – a phone number scrawled. Lovino stared dumbfounded at the note for several seconds. This had never really happened to him before. The old 'hide a note with a phone number and make sure they get it' ploy? He'd always thought this was the sort of thing that only happened in films and books and the like, stupid romance stories, not in real life. The kind of sappy romance that would have a waiter or something write a number on a napkin and slip it to the person, that sort of thing. The only addition that could possibly have completed this film-like scene was a 'call me!' or love-heart scribbled onto it, though Antonio apparently had more class than that. Barely. That in itself came as a surprise considering the guy seemed like the sort of sap who'd probably consider it 'cute'. The guy seemed to live in his own little world.

For what seemed an age Lovino toyed with the piece of paper in his hands even as his mind toyed with the idea of calling the Spaniard to tell him that he was wasting his time and that quite frankly Lovino would be happier if he stopped bothering him. He didn't do dating, relationships, anything of that sort, and that seemed pretty clearly what Antonio was after if this note was an indication. _Don’t do, or can’t do?_ He forced the errant thought out his mind. Or maybe it was just the man’s usual lack of self-awareness and he didn’t realise a note like this didn’t exactly scream “I want to just be friends”. And hell, even when it came to friendship he had very few friends. Manon was probably the closest thing to one, and that was solely because she was his co-worker and thus someone he saw on a nearly daily basis. He sometimes even wondered why she put up with him, even if with women he was often polite – friendly even – working with him she'd seen his temper and how stubborn and rude he could be, yet still considered him a good enough guy to be friends with. Well, he wasn't going to question it. _Can’t afford to-_

For the better part though, people didn't like him and he didn't like them. He'd had some one-night stands, mostly when both he and the other person were too drunk to know better, but when Lovino would wake the next day he tended to go straight into a mix of disappointment – with himself mostly – and self-disgust and flee or kick the other person out – if they didn’t leave once it became clear a sober Lovino was hardly pleasant – making it clear a drunken fling meant nothing. There was no reason to believe Antonio would be anything different.

Eventually he decided against calling Antonio and tore the note into two pieces, balling them up and throwing them into the bin. He had no desire to waste his time with an oblivious, clueless man like that Spaniard. He wouldn't be surprised if calling him only made him think Lovino was interested, even if he spent the call swearing at him from the other end. Some people honestly had nothing where their brains were supposed to be, it seemed.

“Fucking persistent bastard,” he muttered to the empty apartment, getting back to the task of putting the everything away.

By the time evening came Lovino had forgotten about the note for the better part, though it remained slightly at the back of his mind. It was only as he entered the bar to take the evening shift that he remembered it unbidden and promptly tried to push it back out of his mind.

Manon was there waiting for him when he arrived, she took one look at him and crossed her arms. “Something on your mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lovino almost sputtered, staring at her. “The fuck? How do you do that?” Sometimes he wondered if Manon wasn't secretly a skilled psychic or something. The Belgian had learnt to read Lovino like a book, even when he wasn't really thinking of a specific thing. She always seemed to be able to tell when something was bothering him.

“Well?” she asked again, cocking he head with that little knowing smile she always had.

“It's nothing,” he replied, crossing his arms. She leant against the counter, her eyes not leaving him. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of this. He might be stubborn but so was she. He pouted for a few seconds more before relenting. “It's nothing, just some guy.”

Her eyebrow shot back up again, as if on a spring. “Same guy from the other day? He got under your skin bad. Or another one?”

Lovino looked away, checking for any customer at the bar. “Does it particularly matter?”

“Well I can't help a friend out if he won't tell me anything.” She laughed, one hand moving up to pinch Lovino's cheek. He batted it away. He always felt awkward when she talked about helping him out as a friend. It always left him conscious of the fact that he never really helped her, terrible friend that he was. It reminded him that he took and rarely gave, though at the same time, he supposed, she never really asked for help, the Belgian was nothing if not very independent.

“Same guy, ran into him by pure misfortune. Doesn't matter at all, I won't be seeing him again.”

Her eyes were hard a moment. “He’s not harassing you is he? Being weird?”

“No. Well, not more so than any other drunk we get in here, only even more oblivious.”

Manon's eyes were bright now, a cheeky smile dancing on her lips. “He might come back here.”

“And if he does I'll give him a piece of my mind.”

Another trilling laugh. “I thought that was what you always did?”

Lovino snorted before replying with a wry smile. “I am the most tactful and polite fucker you know, admit it.”

She laughed again. “Well, I always did have poor taste in friends.”

The wash-cloth Lovino had been absent-mindedly toying with in one hand went flying, hitting the Belgian woman in the forehead and settling over her blonde hair. Lovino grinned at her. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Not as poor as your taste in head-wear apparently, though.” She plucked it off, sending it back into his face with a giggle. “Where's your brother anyway?” Lovino asked. Lars was absent again. The Dutchman rarely worked the bar itself – being the owner he felt entitled to decide his own work hours and focus on the administrative side of things, and he knew he could trust Manon to run the bar in his absence. But he was usually here to oversee Friday nights around this hour at least.

Manon grinned wickedly. “Ill. I think something he ate on his date disagreed with him. Or maybe it was the date.” The grin faded and she gave a shrug. “He's OK though, tucked up in bed at home last I heard. But that means it's only the two of us here tonight.” And with that she pushed herself up off the counter and moved away to serve a customer. Lovino leant back against the wall, running one hand through his messy brown hair, sighing. He frowned, Friday nights at the bar were usually hectic, the place would soon be filling up and he'd find himself with precious few moments to rest, it was the same every week, and he didn't expect it to be different today. Normally Feliciano – who was, if nothing else, a welcome break from the rest of the customers – would arrive sometime between seven and nine, sometimes with a friend, once or twice he’d even come with a date. They hadn’t lasted, and he suspected meeting Lovino hadn’t helped in that regard. Feli often came to the bar once or twice a week in the evening when Lovino was working. The brothers didn't see each other much during the week. Lovino after all was never the most social of people, preferring to keep to himself and he usually worked the evening and night shifts, while Feliciano worked in some art company as a fairly successful artist and was – unlike him – very social and often out and about seeing people. It was only about seven at the time. Forcing his face into the neutral expression he kept at work, he got to work.

Feliciano did arrive a few minutes before ten. That wasn't surprising, he often went out to dinner with co-workers or friends on Fridays. What was surprising – or rather, rage-inducing might have been the better word – was _who_ he arrived with. Deep in conversation with his brother was Antonio, and with them was some oversized man, clearly more muscle than fat, with his blond-hair slicked back into a professional look and what at first appeared to be an albino, complete with messy shock of white hair and reddish eyes, though his skin did not seem to be pale enough to be a true albino. A deep scowl set itself onto Lovino's face, one hand clenching the bar side until his knuckles turned white. _What. The. FUCK,_ he raged internally. He turned to see if there was any way he could fob the group off to Manon – brother or no brother – but she was already too busy serving another set of customers and so it was to a deeply unimpressed Lovino doing everything he could to avoid scowling that Feliciano and the group arrived at the counter just as he finished serving the last of the customers on his side.

Feliciano, as usual, seemed oblivious to Lovino's frowning face – or perhaps he had simply learnt to ignore it over the years. It was probably the latter and that thought made his stomach knot briefly. “ _Ciao_ Lovi!” he greeted his brother, eliciting a gruff grunt and a muttered ' _Ciao_ Feli'. Lovino glanced over at Antonio, almost daring him to speak. The Spaniard seemed on the verge to do so when Feliciano cut him off. “These are Antonio’s friends!” he explained excitedly, waving a hand at them. He pointed at the large blond-haired man, “This is Ludwig and,” he pointed over at the white-haired man, “his brother Gilbert! Guys, this is my brother, Lovino.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Ludwig said, his voice deep and drenched with a... what was that? German? accent. Lovino restrained a groan. He had to stay professional, hard as it was. “Whatever. Good for you all. Are you going to order something? If not then I'm going to have to ask you to _leave_.” He emphasised the last word with a relish that left no doubt that he wanted them to do precisely that.

He had tried to make it so only Feliciano heard that last part, but as his luck would have it his words came in time with a lull in the noisy atmosphere of the bar and by the surprised looks on the German brothers' faces his vehemence seemed to have been completely heard. He could only guess Feliciano and Antonio hadn't warned them about him. Ludwig seemed lost for words while Gilbert cracked a large grin. “Ooo, look out, Ludwig, looks like your charms won't work on this one,” he laughed, giving his larger brother a nudge with his elbow. Ludwig was apparently not amused by this as he turned his head to his brother and the two began conversing briefly in what Lovino imagined could only be German. That left a still-frowning Lovino faced with Feliciano and Antonio's twin smiles.

There was a short silence between the three of them before Lovino spoke. “So, are you actually going to order something or not?” He could see some other customers at the side waiting, he certainly wasn't just going to stand there hoping they'd remembered what they'd come here for.

“Have you had a bad day, Lovi? You're not usually this-” Feliciano began.

Lovino cut him off, leaning forward. “I have had a day so wonderful I'd shit rainbows if we weren't in public. Now are you and the three stooges going to order anything or not? Other customers are waiting.” His curt tone apparently had the desired effect as Feliciano didn't probe any further and simply ordered his drink. Antonio too – thankfully – refrained from engaging in any small talk for once, and didn't even inquire if Lovino had gotten his note, simply giving him a pleasant greeting and wide grin and leaving with his drink. Ludwig and Gilbert had apparently finished their little talk and ordered after Antonio and soon the four of them were seated at one of the last free tables, away from Lovino. Once they were gone Lovino served the next few customers then – with no one else needing a drink – leant back against the bar, sighing deeply.

He was interrupted again by Feliciano and took this opportunity to vent his frustration. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” he snapped.

Eyes wide in surprise, Feliciano raised his hands in what Lovino had quickly learnt was meant to be a calming gesture. “Wha-”

Lovino lowered his tone. “Bringing that damn idiot here – and that oversized kraut-sucker and the albino.”

“Gilbert’s not an albino, it’s-”

“Don’t change the fucking subject!”

“I just thought it’d be cool to all hang here! This is the easiest place for us all to meet. Come on, Lovi, Antonio's a cool guy, and Ludwig and Gilbert seem cool too! Just give them a chance, please? Please? You won't know if you like them if you don't. Pleeeeeeease?”

“Feli! Fuck. Don't try and drag me into this. I'm not some poor shy teenager just waiting for some wonderful guy or girl to burst into my life, sing a happy song, and show me the joy of living. I _enjoy_ life, I enjoy it even more when I'm not constantly running into oblivious morons.” It was easier to lie, his stomach knotted, he tried to force the thoughts down, don’t let Feli notice.

“But-”

“No. Just drop it and keep your new friends away from me.”

“ _Ve_...you always do this.” Feliciano was frowning now and Lovino knew where this was going to go. This was the usual when Feliciano made new friends and tried to introduce his brother to them. “Always hiding in your little shell pretending everyone's too mean or that you don't want friends or find everyone annoying – or whatever. C'mon Lovi! Please. If you keep pushing everyone away you’ll never be happy. If you stopped imagining that everyone was out to get you you'd be so-”

Lovino let out a pained sigh, drumming his fingers on the counter-top. “We've had this conversation before Feli, and it always ends the same way. I am not some social butterfly like you, and I'm happy like that, so stop trying to treat me like one. Now _drop it_.”

Feliciano looked down, eyes sad now. “I worry about you, you know.”

Lovino scowled. Feli moving straight to the attempted guilt-tripping was certainly new. “I don't need anyone to worry about me God-dammit! I don’t need you worrying, I didn’t need _nonno_ worrying, I didn’t need Elizabeta wor-” His eyes widened a moment and he stifled his own words as he heard them settle in his ears, instead turning his frantic expression into a silent glare.

Feliciano opened his mouth to argue his point further but closed it again under the intensity of Lovino's glare. With a helpless shrug he left, going back to sit with the trio at the table. With him gone Lovino breathed a deep sigh and leant back against the counter. He probably shouldn't have snapped at Feliciano like that, but damn if it wasn't true: that argument always went the same way. It had done for years and the two knew exactly the same points they both made, Lovino would make his case for why he had no desire to join in Feliciano's social life, and his brother would reply with what could be summed up as: _'I'm a social guy, so you should be to! Oh Lovi if only you were nice you'd have friends!'._

A bitter smile rose on Lovino's face. He’d invited the memories back in now and his chest felt tight, stomach like a Gordian knot. How was Feliciano supposed to understand? How could he? He'd always been the golden child. He’d always been the kind of gregarious, socially-easy, popular guy who could charm someone with a smile and if he ever screwed up only needed to look sad and everyone's heart would melt. He’d had it all from childhood all the way into adulthood. In contrast Lovino was sour, quick-tempered, bitter, and bad with people. Feli didn’t know what it was like, to know you’d always be nothing but a defective version of your brother, to be broken, to carry the guilt of their childhood. He had no illusions on himself: he wasn't nice. And that was fine, after all even when he tried to be nice he'd just be repressing rage and lying through his teeth. What kind of friendship could he hope for with anyone if it was built on the lie that underneath it all Lovino was some sociable, amiable guy? He wasn't, and that was fine. _I make do,_ he spat mentally. Sighing once more for good measure, he took a second to rest his head in his hands, already feeling the beginnings of a headache, then he pushed himself up and moved to serve the waiting customers. _No more thoughts._

The night continued much smoother than Lovino had feared, with Feliciano and his little group not trying to engage him in any more conversation. They only came up to the counter for more drinks, and it was easy to avoid them: Feliciano seemed to be sulking and refusing to talk to Lovino while in the case of the other three Lovino always made sure to be busy with other customers and dawdle long enough for Manon to be the one to get them more drinks. In fact, it was almost a return to normalcy, where he just had to put up with a few annoying drunken customers that try to make some conversation, then abandoned it once they had their drink.

It was around half-eleven when that normalcy began to get shaky during a lull in the customers. He was leaning against the counter with a glass of water in one hand as Manon settled herself besides him.

“Well?” She grinned as Lovino raised a confused eyebrow. “Have tall, dark, and handsome and you gotten on well tonight?”

It took him a few seconds to work out who she meant and he snorted derisively in response. “He's none of those things. Well, except for tall. Tall, dumb, and moronic.”

She gave her usual trilling giggle, turning around and propping her elbows on the counter, resting her face between her hands as she scanned the bar for the group. “Oh, I don't know about that. He's quite cute, pretty well toned too. Must do quite a bit of working out.” She waggled her eyebrows.

Lovino grunted, Antonio wasn't bad-looking true, and he certainly seemed to have a good body which showed through the rather tight shirts he seemed to favour – but that didn't make up for the personality, and he was damned if Lovino was going to admit anything nice about the Spaniard. “Probably stays healthy from all that running away when people call the cops on him for harassing them.”

Another giggle as Manon pushed herself up, looking at Lovino then giving a pointed look over to where he knew Feliciano and the group were. “Well, I don't think you need to be worried about him trying to flirt with you again, he and Feliciano seem to be getting on quite well. They were here yesterday too during my shift.”

That got Lovino's attention as he whipped round and his eyes met the group around the table. Manon had been right, Feliciano was practically draped over Antonio, the two of them giggling while a clearly drunk Gilbert was shouting something. “Ugh, fuck, fuck, fucking-” A sick feeling grew in his stomach as he watched the two. He was sorely disappointed in Feliciano – but then his brother rarely made great choices. No, the one he was especially furious with was Antonio. The Spaniard had spent the afternoon harassing Lovino, going so far as to surreptitiously leave his number with Lovino only to then go and basically throw himself over Feliciano. He supposed he should be happy that Antonio had finally gotten the hint and decided to leave Lovino alone, but to then go straight after Feliciano hurt in more ways than one. Maybe that was all he even wanted, to get friendly with Lovino in order to keep close to Feliciano. _Every time. Every. Fucking. Time._

He felt Manon's hand on his shoulder, her voice was soft, he must have been scowling. “I wouldn't worry, Lovino. Feliciano can take care of himself in this, I'm sure. If you go charging in there you'll just come across as the crazy overbearing brother and Feli will probably be pissed off for a good while.” He knew she was trying to stop him doing something stupid like going over to drag Feliciano away or something. More than anyone except their foster-parents she knew Lovino could be more than over-protective of his brother. _She doesn’t get it_.

His stomach felt like a Gordian knot of repressed anxiety. He merely growled though. “Like I give a shit what I come across to those two. Feli's already pissed off at me anyway. He'll sulk for the rest of the evening, but that's it. It's not like he's got the capacity to be upset for more than a few hours.”

Manon sighed but didn't probe any further, pushing herself up. Lovino imagined that by now she had learnt when she couldn't win an argument with him and had no desire to push his anger. “Just don't do anything rash is what I mean.” And with that she moved off to serve some customers.

“I wasn't planning to!” Lovino called indignantly after her. He wasn’t a kid, he didn’t need to be told that. While furious, he had no intention of going over into the bastard-zone that was that table and making matters worse. He really didn't care who Feliciano got with – well, that wasn't quite true, but he wasn't going to stop his brother from dating anyone, at any rate. No, what hurt was– He pushed the half-finished thought from his mind, it didn't matter anyway. What did he care if Antonio apparently had dropped him all of a sudden? Thank fuck. It was a _good_ thing. With a sigh, Lovino pushed himself up and went to serve a waiting customer. It was once he finished serving the lady and her friends that the evening took another turn for the worse as they moved off and Lovino found himself staring at Antonio.

There was no way he could pretend he was busy or hadn't seen the Spaniard. He forced his face into a neutral expression. “What do you want?”

Antonio grinned. “Just some conversation would be great.” He seemed mostly sober, which only made the prior spectacle between him and Feliciano worse.

“I'm not paid to talk.” And with that Lovino looked round to see if anyone else needed serving, only to see no one waiting. _Fuck, of all times for it to calm down a few moments_. He gave a pained sigh and turned back to Antonio. Time to be frank and put an end to this. “Look, Antonio.” His voice was forced calm. “What exactly do you want? I should fucking hope I've made it clear I'm not interested in any sort of relationship by now. So what do you want? To be magical happy best friends forever? Because that ain't going to happen.”

The tanned man gave an almost apologetic expression. “I'd settle for just regular friends.”

“Fu-”

“I'm serious about that conversation though.” His face was red, and Lovino had the feeling it was not just from the alcohol he'd had this evening. The man ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, did you get my note?”

Lovino had had plenty of time to think of a proper response in case he was asked this, and wasted no time using it. “What note?”

Antonio's shoulders slumped somewhat. “The-the one in the bag of tomatoes?”

“Oh that. Tore it up. I told you, full schedule forever.” That ever-so-slightly awkward and disappointed look on the Spaniard's face almost made the entire encounter at the market worthwhile and Lovino had to force down a smile. But then a hurt look passed over Antonio's face and a slight guilt popped up. Antonio’s eyes were downcast a moment, like a kicked puppy, in a look that didn’t suit his normally cheerful, handsome face. _Fuck, what's that about? Like I give a shit if I hurt the bastard's feelings_ , he thought, throttling that sliver of guilt down. He had better things to be doing. He looked round again to see if there were any customers waiting he could use to get out of this conversation. Just his luck, the only one that needed serving was already being served by Manon. He crossed his arms, blowing air out his teeth in frustration. _Of course,_ this conversation would come in a lull in customer activity, he thought again.

“Oh, well, never-mind then.” There was a few seconds silence before Antonio spoke again, giving him an almost sheepish smile. “So how about that conversation?”

“God-dammit what did I do to deserve this?”

Antonio's smile grew. “Hey now, how do you expect to make friends with an attitude like that?”

“Maybe I don't want your friendship.”

To Lovino's irritation the grin grew wider. “Maybe friendship isn't something you ask for, it's something you wake up one day and realise you have.”

“That's real fucking deep. Got that from a book, did you?” He'd had quite enough of this now. Leaning forward, Lovino glared the man in the eyes, trying to ignore the infuriating smile plastered on the guy's face. “Maybe you should leave me the hell alone. This persistence isn't flattering, and it's not 'cute'.”

Antonio's grin grew another few teeth. “See what I mean? You need to relax a bit!”

“Relax _?_ Take a hint-.”

“Come on Lovino, I just want to get to know you better! I'm sure we could be good friends if you just give me a chance.”

Lovino narrowed his eyes. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

“What do you-”

“You think I haven't seen you and Feli? The two of you were practically on top of each other. So one moment you're fucking harassing me like some shitty romcom hero, literally a few hours later you're after my brother? And now what? You're coming to harass me again? So what, is one of us the backup? Or are you looking to ingratiate yourself with me so Feli will get with you? Is that it?”

A deep frown fell onto Antonio's face. “N-no that's not it at all!”

“Listen here.” Lovino's voice was deadly calm. “I don't like people who fuck around with me, and I _really_ don't like people fucking around with me just to get with my brother. Especially people who can't even be honest about their intentions and try and pretend they want to be wonderful happy friends with me when a few moments ago they were sprawled against my brother hours _after_ trying to make me take their phone number _after_ uselessly flirting the day before.” That got a reaction as Antonio's eyes grew wide, the Spaniard trying to object before being cut off. “So here's the deal, leave me alone, and if you fuck over Feli you're gonna have hell to pay. So keep that in mind. Now either order a drink or fuck off.”

An inscrutable look came over Antonio's face and he stood there silently for a few seconds, eyes locked onto Lovino's. Then he lowered them, muttered something Lovino didn't hear, and moved off without a word, rejoining the group at the table. For Lovino it was as good as an admission of guilt and he moved off to serve other customers with a small, satisfied smile. The Spaniard didn't bother him again for the rest of the night and by the time the bar closed Antonio had left with the Germans and a still-sulking Feliciano without so much as a wave goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passed by quickly, settling back into its old rhythm as neither Antonio nor his group of friends returned to the bar during Lovino's shift. Feliciano had mentioned meeting up with them once or twice in the week, while Manon had mentioned that the group had been to the bar twice or so during her shift and Antonio on his own once, but in all cases Lovino hadn't particularly cared enough to probe any further. For him everything had returned to its comfortable and safe norms, where he knew how to react, where the lines were drawn, and what was what. This was how things were supposed to be. No one else.

Work. Apartment. Shopping. Apartment. Reading, TV, and lounging. Sleep. Work. That was how it was supposed to be. No others intruding, no Spaniards, nothing but Lovino. That was how it had always been, and that was how it was supposed to be. _I make do._

Tuesday was different. He found himself down at the bar around nine in the evening. His shift had ended more than two hours earlier but he'd stayed around – as a customer – relaxing, drinking, and talking, first with Feli who had dropped in for over an hour before dashing off, then to Manon. He wasn’t sure why. Normally he’d have stayed for Feli at best, then gone straight home. Yet something in him kept him going back, knowing he’d sit there alone, doing nothing. The bar was quiet tonight, with only a few groups around. Manon had just moved off briefly to serve someone when in the corner of his eye Lovino saw someone sit beside him.

He didn't turn to look until a familiar voice assaulted his ears. “ _Hola_ Lovino.”

Lovino's stomach fell and a frown implanted itself onto his features as he spun round on the bar stool and found himself face-to-face with Antonio. Internally he swore furiously. Why? Why tonight of all times? He'd had a good day and even an enjoyable evening until this. Was the universe _that_ committed to making sure that he couldn't enjoy anything? With a deep sigh he glared at the Spaniard opposite him; Antonio seemed very much as Lovino had last seen him. Messy hair, tight shirt, oblivious look complete with his usual smile plastered on his face. Despite that, he did seem a bit more subdued, wary even, than he’d previously been. Cautious in a way Lovino hadn’t remarked previously. Perhaps their last conversation had finally gotten through to him in some way. Lovino wasted no time making his thoughts on the other man clear. “God-dammit! What are you doing here again?”

The tanned man shrugged. “I wanted to go out tonight but the others are all busy, so I thought maybe I'd come here-”

“And harass me? Charming.”

“-and see who was here. Maybe chat with Manon, maybe Feli. Hopefully talk to you.” The man blew air out through his teeth, resting his arms on the bar. He wasn’t looking at Lovino, his gaze instead fixed on the rack of bottles before him. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, like-”

“You don’t-” Lovino began, but Antonio didn’t let him get his retort in, continuing over him.

“-every time we’ve spoken. What you said last week?” His tone turned several shades more serious. “Lovino, I'm not 'after' Feliciano or whatever you seem to think. I'm not even 'after' you.”

A pained sigh escaped Lovino, and he switch his glare from Antonio down to his own drink. “Why are you even telling me this?”

That made Antonio look towards him once more and Lovino turned to face him too. He was struck by how bright the Spaniard’s eyes were in the dim light from the bar, making the pair shine. The man gave him a small smile, he couldn’t tell whether it was bashful, unsure, or embarrassed. “I guess I just don’t wanna leave a bad impression. I didn’t mean to piss you off or anything, I just wanted to be friends. You’re Feli’s brother and Manon’s friend...I don’t know. I was serious when I said I wanted to be friends with you though, Lovino.”

Lovino tore his gaze away from that quizzical, handsome face and frowned down at his drink. “And _I_ was serious when I said I couldn't give a rat's ass.” Lovino drained the rest of his drink, setting it down. A slight light-headedness was coming over him, he'd had a few drinks already and the alcohol was clearly starting to kick in.

“But why not?” The Spaniard's voice wasn't particularly whiny but there was a clear curiosity in it, as though he was intensely curious as to why Lovino didn't want anything to do with him.

“Because...” he frowned once more. There was a tightness in his chest and a lightness in his stomach, the twin sensations making him feel uncomfortable. _Because that’s not how it works. Because I can’t make friends. Because the more you know me, the more you’ll-_ “Because I fucking said so. There. People don't have to be friends with you just because you decide you want them to. Some people will never like you no matter what you do, believe me.” He spoke before his mind could continue along its train of thought, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest from his own words as he realised them, both his words and thoughts. _How fucking true that is._ He forced his expression to remain neutral though and pointed an accusing finger at Antonio. “What you're doing here is literally harassment and probably stalking too.”

A totally confused look shot across Antonio's face. “Sta-stalking? What?”

Lovino cocked an eyebrow. “Turning up at my workplace, continually harassing me when I've made it more than clear I want nothing to do with you. Need I go on? At this rate I'm gonna have to get a restraining order just to get some peace and quiet.” He hadn’t meant it, but his last words came out with a slight cocky smile on his face.

Antonio seemed to take that last part as a reassuring joke and his grin returned fast as lightning. “Oh come on, you work in a _bar_. One that I go to with friends occasionally. You’re the brother of a man I’ve made friends with. It's not like I'm breaking into your office or following you home or something.”

Lovino was about to retort when Manon moved over. She took one look at Antonio, glanced at Lovino, and grinned before speaking, “Nice to see you again Antonio.”

The Spaniard smiled back. “ _Hola_ Manon, nice to see you too.” The friendliness between them bothered Lovino more than it should have. Like Antonio was stealing the closest thing to a friend he had. _Friendship isn’t a zero-sum thing_ , he tried to tell himself. He wished he could still believe that.

“Everything OK here?” Again, Lovino was about to retort when she interrupted him, pointing down at his empty glass. “Same thing?” she asked. He shut his mouth and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed away from the Spaniard besides him as Manon asked what Antonio wanted. Silence overtook the pair until Manon had served them both, Lovino stubbornly looking the other way from the Spaniard, leaning on the counter, starting to feel more light-headed by the minute. Manon seemed about to stay and talk with them and perhaps keep the peace when her attention was drawn away by another customer. Lovino could have sworn in fury as she moved off and left him alone with Antonio once more with no reprieve.

The two were silent for a few seconds more before Antonio took a swill of his drink and turned to him. “I don’t think you mean it.”

Lovino didn't look at him, opting instead to scowl down into his drink. “What the fuck are you on about now?”

“When you say you don’t want a friends, when you act all stand-offish. I don’t think you mean it. I mean, everyone likes friends.”

“Maybe _I_ don’t.” Antonio seemed about to respond but Lovino silenced him with an accusing finger. “And what makes _you_ so sure you want to be friends with me?” he replied, vaguely aware that he was beginning to slur his words slightly. He took a gulp of his drink and continued before Antonio could answer. “Because most normal people would have gotten the hint by now.”

The Spaniard gave a bright, cheeky grin. “Your personality. So fresh. So raw. So honest.” He seemed to stop under the glare Lovino was shooting at him and instead stared down at his drink for a few seconds before looking up and continuing. “I admit sometimes I have problems reading between the lines and all that stuff, but I'm not so oblivious that I don't notice some of the things you say, Lovino. I just-” He stopped and raised his drink, taking in a mouthful and gulping it down, apparently thinking on his words. “Why can't I want to be friends with you? What's wrong with that exactly?”

Lovino took another gulp as he stared down the other man, waving the glass in his direction. “Because this isn't some sappy romance book: where the love interest harasses the protagonist until he gives in out of sheer fucking stress, but gosh-darn-it-all we _have_ to forgive him for it because he's such a _nice_ and sweet guy who was only doing it all out of _purest_ love.”

“I'm not trying to harass you into being the – uh – 'love interest', Lovino. And I'm _not_ stalking you. I'm not even looking for romance!” Antonio seemed to be getting worked up slightly, which amused Lovino as he watched. He tried not to smile but he was sure his amusement was starting to show on his face. “Yeah, OK, I'll admit I was flirting with you at first, but I got your hints pretty obviously, I'm not looking to grind you down or anything, just to be friends. I get along great with Feli, and I know you’re much better than you pretend you are. What's so bad about that?”

“Nor is this some fucking kid's book where the poor lonely guy was just waiting for some dashing person to come along and insist on being his friend before they then sing about the power of friendship, impart a heart-warming kid-friendly message and live happily ever after as best friends.”

“Lovino, you don't have to take things to extremes-”

Lovino slammed his glass down. He’d only meant to put it down firmly but his hand overtook his thoughts, feeling the effects of the alcohol that he had had beginning to affect him quite hard. It usually took a while for the effects of intoxication to kick in, which in turn meant he often ended up drinking more than he had thought, since he'd feel fine at the time and the effects were delayed. He glared at the tanned man opposite. “Feli put you up to this, didn’t he? It’s another one of his ‘get friends for Lovino’ bullshit schemes.”

Antonio’s eyebrows knitted in a frown before a bemused expression took over his face. “Well not quite-”

“What do you even know about me anyway?”

Antonio gave a small shrug, smiling in an almost apologetic way. “Well, not much-”

“Exactly, you bastard! You know fuck all-.”

The Spaniard only gave him a small grin. “I know a bit,” he replied before shrugging. “You refuse to even talk. You can't exactly accuse people who are trying to get to know you that they know nothing about you. I mean, it's sorta contradictory. How am I-”

“Well maybe I don't want you to know anything 'bout me!” It was a slightly childish response and he knew it, and Antonio put his hand out in what was probably meant to be a calming gesture.“I didn't exactly ask for you to come bothering me.”

“Hey, hey, look I just-”

“We've been over this,” Lovino snapped. “You wanna be friends with Feli then _fine_. I'm not gonna get in your way, but you don’t have to come chasing me.” He picked up his glass and emptied the rest, waving it in Antonio's direction as he continued, he was sure that his speech was starting to slur much more noticeably now, but the bastard would just have to put up with it. “Being friends with my brother doesn’t mean you have to be friends with me. You might think you're being all cutesy and shit with your little cute smiles and persistence but I'm sick of being dragged and led along by people who never actually mean it and just drop me when-.” His chest tightened, and he shut his mouth as he heard his own words. There was a knot in his stomach, Antonio’s eyes glimmered quizzically at him, like they were looking straight through him to his core. When he continued, he knew his voice was tight, tired. “So...so just drop it, OK? Bastard.”

Antonio was quiet for a few seconds as Lovino glared over at him, the Spaniard staring down at the empty glass still in his hand. Then he looked up, his bright green eyes meeting Lovino's hazel ones. They were soft, with a firmness behind them. “If you want me to go, I’ll go, Lovino. I mean that. I don’t want to-”

Lovino rolled his eyes, pointing yet another finger towards the man besides him. “I'm Lovino Vargas. I'm 26. I was born in Rome and moved to Austria when I was 13. I first came here because I got into university to study architecture but dropped out after a year. I eventually decided to stay here and now I work as a barman in this bar. There. Now you have no excuse to keep on pretending you want my company. You’ve got enough to make Feli think we get along. Can I get back to drinking?”

Antonio’s expression turned from curious to completely confused, then slightly indignant as Lovino mentioned Feliciano. He opened his mouth to speak but only managed to get the word 'but' out before he was stopped by a scowling Lovino leaning forward, trying to glare the Spaniard up-close in the eyes in what he could only hope was an intimidating way. Lovino just had time to manage to say, “No fucking buts about it-” before his free hand missed the bar counter and fell through the air. His upper body followed and Lovino fell forward, crashing into the Spaniard. Antonio only just managed to keep himself from toppling off the stool, holding Lovino up with both hands on his sides.

“ _Dios_ -” The Spaniard was cut off in his surprise by Lovino swearing furiously, face against Antonio’s chest, clinging onto him with one hand in an attempt to pull himself up and gripping onto the bar counter with his other.

“Well, this escalated quickly. Looks like the two of you get on better than I thought,” an amused voice remarked. Manon was stood across the counter, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Their mutual reactions were almost instantaneous as Lovino shoved the man back right as Antonio tried to pull a still-swearing Lovino off him, his cheeks flushed a hot red that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “N-no! He was just trying to hold himself up and his hand missed the counter.”

“S'all your fault you god-damned bastard,” Lovino managed to get out, voice a slurred mutter. He crossed his arms on the counter and leant his head down onto them, looking across at both Manon and Antonio. It felt difficult trying to focus on them, the light-headedness was heavy now, tinged with a growing exhaustion. How much had he had already? He hadn't really been counting, in truth he could use another drink just to relax himself.

That idea was scrapped as Manon laughed, taking his glass away with a shake of her head. “Well, I think we can guess who's being cut off for the rest of the night.”

Antonio glanced over at Lovino as he responded with a muttered string of curses, the Spaniard raising a querying eyebrow towards the Belgian woman. “Is he...usually like this?”

“Hm? When drunk? Pretty much. Well. Not quite; he's sometimes a lot more social. Well, in his own way at least. He even flirts with women sometimes.”

“Oh.” Antonio rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, staring down into his half-empty glass.

“Don’t take anything he says to heart. He swears more the more he likes you.”

“Don't tell him shit like that,” Lovino slurred in complaint, his head still resting against his arms on the bar counter as he kept an eye on them. It was getting hard to focus too much, his head fuzzy.

Manon rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “He doesn't usually drink like this. And I wouldn't normally let him drink so much, but it can be pretty hard to tell how much he's had, and I wasn’t always the one serving him, so it wasn't exactly easy to keep track. He’s quite the lightweight. Tends to hit him all at once too, makes it hard to judge since one moment he’s fine then suddenly it all hits him.”

Antonio gave a small smile, raising his drink to his lips. “So I've noticed; he was pretty much OK when I got here.”

“Was _perfectly_ fine before you got here and ruined it all,” Lovino interjected, shifting in his seat.

He felt Manon pat him on the head, provoking him to try and swat her hand away, raising his head up from his arms. She giggled. “I'm sure you were, Lovi, I'm sure you were.”

Lovino pulled himself up, rising from his seat, slightly unstable. When had he got this woozy? It couldn't just be the alcohol surely, no doubt Antonio's presence had left him more exhausted than he would otherwise have been. “Whatever, I'm going home.”

Manon held up a hand to stop him, reaching over the bar and tugging on his shirt to pull him back. “Whoa, whoa, you're not going anywhere like that. Not on your own, at any rate.”

“I'm not some fucking kid, Manon. I can walk home after dark on my own,” Lovino slurred, falling back into his seat as the light-headedness got the better of him. Maybe he wasn't sleeping enough, that must have been it. He tried to stand again, stepping away, only to find himself crashing into the stool next to his. Fuck, where had that come from?

“Being too drunk to walk at this hour pretty much ruins any hope of you being taken maturely, Lovi.”

“I'm not drunk! Just tired-”

“I was pretty much gonna head off anyway, I can walk him back.” Antonio spoke up, finishing his drink at last.

Manon glanced over to him. “Could you? He doesn't live too far from here, turn right when you leave and head straight down the street about thirty, forty minutes’ walk away. Apartment complex. Near the Baptist church and the closed warehouse. He can show you.”

The man took a moment to think, then nodded. “That's in the general direction I need to go to get home anyway. I can easily take a detour and drop him off safely.”

“I'm not walking with you,” Lovino mumbled.

To his frustration they both ignored him. “That'd be really good of you, thanks. I can't leave the place unattended until my shift ends in about three hours. And I certainly don't trust him walking back in the state he's in at the moment.”

“Still not walking with him.” He repeated.

The Belgian's tone turned several shades more severe. “You're not going back alone. So, either you wait here for three hours until I finish work, wait till you sober up, cough up the cash for a taxi, or you let him walk you back.”

Lovino groaned into his hands, weighing up his choices before sighing deeply. He’d just get a taxi. And yet...the thought of walking with Antonio didn’t seem too awful. He’d almost enjoyed teasing the man earlier, and the way the Spaniard seemed endlessly cheerful despite Lovino’s best efforts… His stomach knotted. “Fine,” he muttered. He wasn’t in the mood for arguing, every time he closed his eyes he felt like he was falling, and he couldn’t help but notice his own unsteadiness. He was drunk alright. He pulled himself up off the seat again, stabilising himself on the bar counter.

Manon offered Antonio an apologetic smile. “Thanks for doing this.”

“It's no problem.”

“You've got Feliciano's number if something comes up, yes? He lives across the city but he's got a car.” Antonio nodded.

“Why have you got his number?” Lovino interrupted, glaring at the Spaniard with half-lidded eyes.

“Because he gave it to him,” Manon said.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because,” she replied in an almost patronising tone, “I told you they’ve been getting along great, they’ve become good friends even.”

“But he's a-a creep!” Antonio's stammering, surprised reaction elicited a wry grin from Lovino despite his best efforts. It was getting to fun to tease him like that. He leant closer to Manon and almost stumbled.

She held a hand out to calm him and pushed him back softly. Her voice was soft, she seemed to be restraining another giggle. “Lovi, I really think it's time you headed off home now.”

Lovino sighed and started to move off, swaying slightly before he righted himself. Antonio said goodbye to Manon and took Lovino's shoulder by the hand to stabilise him. “Don't touch me,” Lovino muttered, but he made no move to shake the Spaniard's hand off and didn't complain further. If anything, he was privately grateful for the support; though he'd be damned if he showed as much. Any show of gratitude would only encourage the persistent idiot to keep bothering him. _And what’s wrong with that?_ The thought came unbidden, he wasn’t sure he had an answer anymore.

They stepped out into the cold night air without a word, Antonio guiding Lovino along. The Spaniard took a few seconds to shrug his coat on, while Lovino wrestled with his own. Eventually Antonio had to come to help him, much to his displeasure. Once that was done, Antonio turned to him. “OK, you'll need to actually tell me where to go from here.”

Lovino leant back against the wall of the building, rubbing his tired eyes with one hand. What he'd give for his bed right now, even blinking made him feel like he was dropping, and the harsh glare of the street lamps were making it hard for him to focus on anything. “I can walk back from here alone,” he muttered.

“Nope.” Antonio's tone was oddly firm. “I said I was taking you back, and I am. C'mon Lovi, you can barely stand straight. There's no way I'm letting you walk back alone.”

“Don't fucking call me Lovi.” Lovino pushed himself up from the wall, moving forward, still light-headed. Again, Antonio took his arm to keep him straight, and the pair walked on.

“Why don't you want people calling you Lovi anyway?” Antonio asked, “It's, well, cute.”

“Ugh, back to your fucking shit about cute. What? You think because you’re some big handsome guy you can go around calling other men cute?” He took pleasure in how Antonio’s cheeks went red. “I'm not cute anyway. Only Feli calls me Lovi.”

A bright smile cracked across Antonio’s face. “Wait. You think I’m handso-”

Lovino’s face flushed red. _Yes._ “No. Shut up, that’s not what I meant!”

The Spaniard merely gave a small smile. “So, which is it though? That you're not cute? Or that only Feliciano can call you Lovi? Because neither are true: for a start, Manon calls you Lovi.”

“You call me cute again and I will throw you into the fucking road,” Lovino muttered, keeping his head down as he watched his steps. “Manon can call me that because she's a coworker and I can’t get her to stop. Aside from her, only friends can call me Lovi. Something which you-” he stopped briefly to jab a finger at the other man before continuing, “-are not and won't be. So, don't call me that.”

Antonio chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. “Well if you say so, Lovino.”

“I do, and I mean it.”

There was silence between the two for a few seconds before Antonio spoke again. “Were you this much against being friends with Manon too?”

“Wha-” Lovino trailed off, caught off-guard by the question. What was the bastard on about now?

“I'm just curious. You don't have to answer.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Hm? How aren’t you? You seem to get along really well in there.”

“And _there_ is the only place we ever see each other. Someone you only see at work isn’t a friend, they’re a co-worker.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” His tone made it clear he didn’t believe Lovino, but Lovino couldn’t bother to argue more.

“Left here.” They moved off the pavement and Lovino's foot went straight through where he'd still expected pavement, making him stumble forward, almost crashing down into the road. Antonio caught him at the last moment, pulling him back with both hands. He didn't try to right himself, letting himself essentially rest on the Spaniard's body as he let out a groan, starting to feel his stomach churn. Yeah, it wasn't just exhaustion, maybe he _had_ drunk too much. It was embarrassing to be like this with Antonio here.

“Are you OK?” Antonio asked. Lovino didn't reply, simply letting his head rest on the other man's shoulder. He could feel his cheeks flush red as he realised what he was doing but didn’t move away. It was fairly comfortable like that, he decided, perhaps the other man was useful for at least _one_ thing after all. “Are you going to puke?”

He rested against Antonio several moments longer before pulling himself up, swaying slightly, trying to stabilise himself. “I'm fine,” he muttered, stepping forward. Was it usually this hard to walk in a straight line? “It's passed. I’m just exhausted, didn’t eat much, it’s not going well with the drink. Let's just keep moving.”

“Are you sure? We can wait until you feel better-”

Lovino pushed him with one hand. “Just keep moving, idiot. I wanna get home at some point tonight. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than put up with me all night too.”

“I don’t mind.”

 _Don’t lie._ Lovino simply blew air through his teeth at that. “ _Everyone_ has better things to do than put up with me.” Antonio seemed about to respond before thinking better of it. Lovino thought for a moment he was agreeing but his face was frowning in seeming disagreement. _Just another thing he’s oblivious to, then._

With him leaning on the Spaniard, they continued across the road and back onto the pavement. They walked on in silence, the only noise being the occasional passing car or Lovino guiding Antonio. After another fifteen minutes walking they reached the foot of Lovino's apartment complex. He once more tried to shoo the Spaniard away but Antonio refused to leave, insisting on walking him to his door – especially after he learnt that there was no lift and Lovino lived on the fourth floor. _Say what you wanted about the bastard, he_ _doesn’t_ _do things half-assed_ , Lovino mused. And so, it was after Antonio had carefully guided him up the flights of stairs that they finally found themselves outside Lovino's apartment door.

Lovino pushed himself away from Antonio – leaning against the wall instead – and fished for his keys in his pocket. His head was already starting to clear up a bit from the time and the cold night air, now all he felt was tired, his eyelids trying to shut every time he leant back. He glanced over at the man besides him, making a shooing motion with one hand. “You can leave now, I'm not gonna fucking lose the keys or something and spend the whole night sleeping next to the door.”

Antonio grinned. “Hey, I was told to make sure you get home safely and that's what I'm doing.” Lovino simply rolled his eyes, trying and failing to manoeuvre the keys into the keyhole. Antonio watched for a few seconds before moving to help. “Here, let me.” He put his hand onto Lovino's and guided the key into place.

His hand was warm despite the cold outside, and it even felt quite nice against Lovino's, such that it took him a second to response, his face growing hot red, flashing the tanned man a scowl. “Get your hand the fuck off mine.” Antonio gave an apologetic shrug and did so, taking a step away from Lovino. With a sigh Lovino turned the key, opening the door and moving in, still leaning on the wall with one hand. He turned around once inside.

Antonio gave him a wide grin, waving him goodbye. “Take care, drink plenty of water, and get some sleep.”

Lovino frowned. “I know that, you idiot. What do you think I am? Some teenager stumbling back from a party, drunk for the first time?” He moved to close the door behind him then stopped halfway, turning around to face the other man. “Hey Antonio? Thanks. For helping me back. I guess.” The words felt wrong in his mouth after all the ire he'd spewed at the man, but he was genuinely thankful if nothing else. It didn't make up for irritating him and ignoring his desire for the Spaniard to go away, but at least this time Antonio's refusal to leave had been for an actual reason.

“No problem! I'm always here to help.”

“Whatever. Just... Thanks. Good night. See you around.” Antonio flashed him a wide grin, particularly at that last part, giving a wave before stepping away as Lovino slid the door shut and locked it, staring a few moments at the hand that Antonio’s had cupped, his stomach twisting.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed by without the Spaniard coming back to the bar, for which Lovino was certainly happy if not even thankful. He felt embarrassed from having been drunk to the point of needing help home in the Spaniard's presence that he was only happy to let the time pass and the memory fade. While he could only admit – privately – that he was slowly finding the man less obnoxious than he had before, it was only in the way you eventually learnt to put up with an annoying acquaintance. At least so he told himself. Yet his thoughts drifted back to the man constantly, and his chest ached in a way he thought it had forgotten how to, years ago. But after that one evening, he had no desire at all to embarrass himself further or be pestered any more. Three days after, on Friday, he was just spending the afternoon relaxing before his evening shift when his phone rang. It was Feliciano.

He answered it, switching to Italian as he usually did with his younger brother. “What is it?”

Feliciano's voice rang out on the other end. “Loviii, can I ask you to do a huge favour pleeeease?”

Almost immediately a frown implanted itself onto Lovino's face. _Here we go._ “What?”

“So, me and a few friends are going to a club tonight, and your shift ends at 3 or so, right? So, I thought maybe if I lent you my car you could pick me up! It'd be reeeally nice of you!”

Lovino began absent-mindedly drumming the fingers of his free hand on the small side-table. He had learnt to drive several years earlier, but with not enough need or money for a car, he usually just borrowed Feliciano's if he ever needed to travel far enough to use a car. “Did you seriously just call me up to ask me to be your _taxi_?” He could just imagine Feliciano on the other side, thinking up some way of convincing him, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his head, the whole works.

“N-no! Well… when you put it like that, I guess yes? But really, it's just convenient for both of us! Before we go I can drop the car off near the bar and you can pick me up after you finish work. It's just a small detour for you! It'll only take you a few minutes more! Pleeeeeeease Lovi?”

Lovino rapped his fingers once more on the table and sighed deeply. _What good is arguing?_ “OK fine, but I'm only taking you back; not your drunk friends.”

“Thank you! I'll drop the car off outside the bar! The club is that new one not far from the city centre, you know-” He degenerated into giving a full set of confusing directions until Lovino got him to simply give him the club's name and the street it was on then with a final 'thank you' he hung up and leant back against the wall, crossing his arms and sighing again for good measure before he went back to enjoying what was left of his afternoon.

The evening came quickly and the bar was busy enough with the Friday night crowd to keep Lovino, Manon and even Lars busy for most of the night. It was with a sense of relief when it finally closed at three in the morning, the remaining customers being ushered out as the three of them began to clear the place. Lovino stayed a few minutes longer to help Manon tidy the bar for the night before he collapsed into a chair, tired to the bone. Ringing punctured the silence. Snapping to full-consciousness, he brought out his phone. It was the alarm he'd set, making sure to remind him that it was time to go collect Feliciano. He might rarely make promises, but he took a certain pride in keeping them. With a sigh he heaved himself up from his comfortable spot, running a hand through his hair before he shrugged on his coat, said goodnight to Manon and Lars, and went down to where Feliciano had parked the car.

There had been no good free parking spots near the club, which was near the city centre, forcing him to end up parking out on the seafront, about fifteen minutes’ walk away. Sighing deeply, Lovino left the car with his almost ever-present frown on his face. He ran a hand through his hair again as he got his bearings, remembering which way was to the club and took a few seconds to breathe in the sea air and listen to the waves. The salty breeze was always something he could enjoy. Eventually he turned away, moving down the streets. There was a small but steady trickle of people moving in the opposite direction he was going, probably more people leaving the district's many clubs and bars as they closed. As he'd thought, he was parked about fifteen minutes away, and combined with the time it had taken him to find a parking place, it meant he'd arrived almost twenty minutes after he'd told Feliciano he would.

He quickly located the club and glanced over at the outside. Feliciano was nowhere to be seen, suggesting he was probably still inside. Lovino sighed, making his way over to the entrance. No one was at the door and no one stopped him as he walked in. There were only a few people left, most of them in the process of leaving. The place was closing, tired-looking staff slowly trying to herd the stragglers out, the music still drumming quietly in the background, having apparently been lowered in volume but not stopped. He spotted Feliciano at the back, draped over that German bastard that increasingly seemed inseparable from Lovino's brother, the two laughing merrily about something. Or rather, Feli laughing excitedly while the other man restrained himself to an amused expression and chuckles. There was no sign of any others with them. _Fuck no._ _Feli’s car or not,_ _I'm not giving that oversized muscle-bastard a lift,_ he thought, frown deepening.

“Loviiiiiiiii!” A sudden cry startled him as two arms invaded his field of vision from behind on both sides and flung themselves around his neck. It wasn’t Feliciano.

“The fuck!?” He sent both his elbows out to hit whoever had just assaulted him, and felt them connect satisfyingly, followed by a winded exhalation of air as whoever it was let go of him. Lovino spun round to find himself faced with a grinning Antonio who was now holding his winded sides, apparently mostly unfazed by the hit. “The fuck was that about!?”

The Spaniard had the decency – or maybe just enough sobriety – to look slightly embarrassed. “It seemed like a good ide-” he began, his loud and slurred voice revealing clearly just _what_ had made him think it was a good idea.

“Loviiiiii!” The same cry came again, this time from behind. Lovino spun round 180 degrees again, bracing himself to be tackled again, only to see Feliciano waving cheerily at him, moving over in a shambling way that suggested the he too was probably not exactly sober, a rather more composed looking Ludwig in tow. “Lovi, I really need to ask you a huuuuge favour again Luddy needs my help with something sorry for making you come here but while you're here can you drive 'Tonio back? He's on the same way back as you! He didn't drink _too_ much he won't annoy you! You can just leave the car outside your place for the night and I'll pick it up tomorrow! Please, please, pleeeease Loviiiii?”

“Jesus fuck, breathe Feli! How the hell am I supposed to understand if you speak that fast!? This is why you shouldn't drink,” Lovino said. He scowled up at the German besides his brother, “And you, you should know better than to let him!” The larger man's eyes widened slightly in apparent surprised and he seemed about to defend himself before Feliciano cut him off.

“Sorry but this is really importaaaaant!” Feliciano said, his voice still spitting words out rapid-fire like a machine-gun, making it hard to follow just what he was saying. _God-fucking-dammit,_ Lovino spat mentally. _Every time he drinks he ends up like this. “This is really important, that's important, everything's importaaaaaant”._ He opened his mouth to answer, a short, sharp rebuttal already forming on his lips but he was stopped as Feliciano flung his arms around him and gave him a quick hug with an enthusiastic ' _grazie, grazie, grazie!'._ He grabbed Ludwig's hand and ignored the confused, seemingly-tipsy German's attempt to apologise and explain the situation more fully to Lovino, instead just pulling the man away, leaving with him in tow and likewise ignoring Lovino's furious calls.

There was silence for a few seconds before Lovino let out a small “Well fuck.” before sighing in quiet fury. He wanted to run after Feliciano, but he knew it would be mostly futile. It was impossible to reason with Feliciano when he was drunk, he had twice the energy and half the restraint. In that state he was always more likely to simply flee rather than confront his brother, as he had indeed pretty much just done. Lovino scowled deeply. _The fuck was the point of making me come here if he's just gonna ditch me the moment I arrive? He could have just sent a fucking text or something!_ He sighed again, deeper this time, heaving his shoulders in exasperation. He was not likely to forget this. It was, more than anything else, like some terrible practical joke, one sprung by his own brother no less.

“Hey, hey Lovi? Lovi? Loviiii?” came a sing-song voice to the side of him. Lovino suddenly remembered that Antonio was still there, the Spaniard looking over at him, head tilted to one side, eyes half-closed, body slouching and swaying slightly, there was little doubt that the tanned man was fairly intoxicated. What was it Feliciano had asked him to do? Drive him home? _Fuck that, he can walk._ That damned Spaniard had waltzed into his life and harassed him since the first day without so much as asking permission. Lovino didn't care that the man was friends with Feliciano, but Antonio seemed intent on trying to be friends with Lovino too. He could only shudder at the thought of what a drunk Antonio would be like. “Loviiii, can I get a lift?” Antonio continued, his words slurring. Lovino sent the man a glare. Harrumphing, he said nothing, simply stepping off from the raised area where the tables were and moving towards the door, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. He vaguely heard Antonio move behind him, a voice calling out, “Hey wait, Lovi, wait, wait for me.” Then there was a string of curses in both English and what was probably Spanish and he heard the dull thump of something hitting the floor.

Lovino spun round. “The fuck are you-” he began, before stopping as he saw Antonio scrabbling up into a sitting position on the floor, frowning and holding his right ankle and muttering more Spanish in a tone that suggested they weren’t pleasantries. As he glanced up and saw Lovino looking a grin cracked up on his face, tinged with a sheepish expression.

“Forgot there was a step.” he said, giving a small giggle as though his clumsiness was a hilarious joke.

If it was, it was a joke Lovino didn't care to get, a look of utter disbelief instead blanketing his face while his mouth worked furiously to try and get a coherent sentence out. “You're-you-you-” He gave a small exasperated growl, fist clenching in his pocket. “Just goddamn it all, you're useless! A fucking danger to yourself.”

Antonio seemed to take no notice of his words, instead just staring down at his ankle. “Hey I think I twisted my ankle. Can you help me up? You who's so big and strong and helpful?”

For a few seconds Lovino was tempted to go, to just storm out and leave Antonio to sort himself out. The Spaniard wasn't his problem, the fact that the idiot apparently couldn't even walk down a step without spraining something was his own cross to bear, not Lovino's. He hadn't wanted to put up with him when he'd first met him at the bar and even if the man had managed to worm his way into Lovino's life bit by bit and apparently ended up befriending his brother, he still didn't want to deal with the Spaniard's antics now. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a small sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. Yet despite it all he supposed he owed it to the man after Antonio had helped him home; nor did he want to deal with Feliciano's inevitable whining of 'Lovi you're so mean to leave poor Antonio behind when he hurt his ankle and I asked you to drive him home and wah wah wah'. And Antonio seemed to get along well with Manon, who would definitely not mince words about her thoughts if she found out Lovino had abandoned him with a twisted ankle in the streets at three in the morning. Lovino sighed again, hands continuing to rub his eyes for a few seconds. He paid his debts, and this was just a settling of debts, after all, nothing more. Antonio had helped Lovino home, Lovino would now help him home, and the two would then owe nothing to the other. _The sacrifices I make just for a bit of peace_ , he thought, frowning as he moved over to Antonio. The Spaniard held an unsteady hand out, grinning just like he usually did.

“How much have you even had to drink?” Lovino asked, keeping his voice neutral as he took Antonio's hand and pulled him up.

Antonio chuckled. “Not that much,” he said, the slurring of his words making Lovino doubt him almost instantly, “you'd know if I had _too_ much. Thanks for being concerned for me though!”

Lovino scowled. “I wasn't concerned for you, you useless bastard. Who would be?” He hauled the giggling Antonio up and let him half-lean onto his shoulder, trying to take the pressure off Antonio's sprained foot, “Like I haven't got better things to do than nurse you like a fucking kid." The Spaniard's laugh got louder at this and Lovino felt Antonio's head lean down to Lovino's shoulder.

“Bit of a change from _me_ having to look after _you,_ ” Antonio said, his voice slurred and his breath tickling the Lovino's ear.

Lovino scoffed, but he felt his scowl lessen. “Fuck you! That was _one_ time! I don't need anyone to 'look after me'. Especially not _you_.” He took a hesitant step forward, he wasn't the strongest of guys and Antonio was heavier than him, the last thing he wanted to do was end up collapsed on a heap with the other man on him. It certainly didn't help that Antonio seemed to be making no effort to hold himself up, and seemed quite content with draping himself on Lovino's shoulder, only stepping forward when Lovino moved too far for him to stay in that position. This was only going to end one way. “And stop breathing on me, your breath stinks. What were you drinking? Actually, don’t answer, I’ve seen what you drink; your tastes are awful” he added as he smelled the alcohol in Antonio's breath, swatting the older man's face back. Antonio only chuckled again, resting his face against Lovino's hair.

“Your hair smells nice, Lovi-” The Spaniard suddenly slipped back as Lovino let go of him, sending him crashing onto the floor. It was only half accidental and he couldn’t help but look down at the man with a barely-concealed wry grin.

“You're too heavy, you idiot. You're gonna have to haul your useless ass and help me.”

“But Loviiii, my foot's in agony! Can't you carry me in your _big, strong, manly_ arms?” A wide grin spread onto Antonio's face as he sat up.

To his own surprise Lovino didn’t cuss out the man for that joking teasing, instead merely rolling his eyes. “Fuck off. Don't call me Lovi. Stand up. Keep the pressure off your foot and balance yourself on my shoulder. Jesus, what are you? Five? You should know this,” Lovino said as he took the older man by the shoulder and pulled him up as gently as he could in his irritated state. He'd only come to pick Feliciano up, not waste his entire evening trying to help this drunk Spanish bastard get home. Already he was losing any patience he might have started with. _Fucking hell, Feli, leaving me with this idiot._ He could only imagine that the oversized German had had something to do with Feliciano's plans changing, considering that he'd left with the man. That only soured Lovino's humour yet further as Antonio, still grinning like an idiot, finally stood straight, his bad foot resting lightly half off the ground and his hand holding Lovino's shoulder for balance. “You good? _Finally_. Let's move,” Lovino grunted, moving towards the door as Antonio hobbled on beside him, hand resting on his shoulder. The two made their way to the door in silence, with only the sound of their breathing and of the streets outside the club breaking the stillness. A staff member shepherding the last stragglers out gave him a nod and smile – no doubt imagining the pair had been at the club together. _Fat chance_ , Lovino spat mentally, yet the thought still made his chest tighten.

The night air was cool as they stepped out. The street was still fairly busy, with small groups of people moving up and down the other businesses along the area, either stumbling or sober. As he began to pull Antonio towards the direction of the car, Lovino stopped as his phone buzzed. He flipped it open, the screen showing a text from Feliciano, he opened it;

_**spending the night at luddys, hope you don’t mind!** _

_Luddy?_ The stupid nickname alone was enough to make him scowl again, and he sighed, blowing air out through his clenched teeth. _Of course, no surprise there,_ he thought as he put the phone away. He didn't even want to know what the two were up to, though he could only imagine what that oversized German bastard wanted from Feliciano. The little Lovino had seen of him, he had seemed reserved, silent and serious, not exactly the sort to enjoy Feliciano's rather carefree and excitable personality. And yet… Well, it probably didn't help that Feliciano knew German, as indeed did Lovino, the pair growing up partly in Austria. Of course, it was perfectly possible that 'Luddy' and Feliciano were just friends but years of experience had taught Lovino to expect the worst. So, he'd been ditched for Feli's latest man. Lovino sighed again, frowning, next time he wasn't going to let Feliciano get out of this so easily. A voice near his ear wrenched him from his thoughts.

“Who was it?” came Antonio's slurred voice.

“None of your business, nosy bastard,” Lovino replied, flashing the man a scowl as he put his phone back into his pocket. He was aware that he was probably being overly defensive, but after the stunt Feliciano had pulled – leaving him stranded with this sorry excuse for a Spaniard – he wasn't feeling particularly friendly. Especially after he'd insisted to Feliciano that there was no way that he was driving back any of his friends.

Antonio though simply kept grinning like an idiot, eyes blinking continuously as though trying to focus on Lovino. “Aww, you're so cuuute with that pout,” he said before giggling, ducking away as though knowing what to expect.

He was too slow, Lovino's hand shot out, delivering a sharp rebuke in the form of a slap to the back of the older man's head while Lovino turned his face away as he felt the slightest blush creep onto his cheeks. “Sh-shut up! I swear, next time I'm leaving you behind. You're worse than Feli when drunk,” he managed to say. _The fuck is with this guy, seriously?_ he thought, exhaling loudly in exasperation. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Antonio's flirtatious personality at the best of times; having to deal with it when he was already irritated that Feliciano had ditched him and when Antonio was drunk and thus _even more_ likely to not take a hint only made things even worse.

Antonio rubbed the back of his head. “Loviiii, you're so mean,” the Spaniard said, still smiling good-naturedly as though Lovino had just made a sarcastic joke or something. Sending him a glare, Lovino said nothing, simply continuing to guide Antonio forward. The car was still ten minutes away from here, out on the waterfront. _Great. Ten minutes of having to help this idiot like a fucking guide dog._

They walked in silence for a moment, Lovino frowning deeply, Antonio leaning on his shoulder. The man was barely limping now, yet didn’t move off, and Lovino couldn’t...couldn’t what? Be bothered to push him away? He wasn’t sure, and he forced his mind away from the question. The crowds of people trickled away until they were left walking alone, eventually arriving at the seafront. Like he had when he'd left the car to go to the club, Lovino stopped briefly, breathing in deeply. He loved the smell of the sea and the sound the waves made, breaking against the rocks. Back when they'd lived in Italy with their grandfather, he and Feliciano had often spent the summer by the sea, getting away from Rome, and every night there Lovino would fall asleep to the sound of the waves. No matter the day he’d had. The arguments with Feliciano. The shouting matches with _nonno_. The sea always washed them away. That sound had been something he'd missed after he and Feliciano had gone to live with Roderich and Elizabeta in Austria. He still often went down to the sea when he'd had a particularly shitty day, just to sit and relax listening to it.

“Hey,” a quiet voice said near his ear. For a brief moment Lovino had forgotten about Antonio, so lost in his thoughts. “Hey,” Antonio repeated, “Lovi? Lovino, you look sad. You're not even pouting any more. Please don't be sad.” He felt Antonio's arms wrap around him, drawing him into a hug. “I don't want you to be sad.”

For a few seconds Lovino stood there, his body against Antonio's. He could feel the warmth and firmness of the Spaniard's body through the thin shirt the man wore, and Lovino felt...comfortable surrounded by those arms. Then his mind slammed back into reality. Antonio was hugging him. He was enjoying it. _No. No. Not again._ He’d built himself up after so many years, he wouldn’t tear himself down again like this. A furious scowl immediately jumping onto his face, he sent his arms coursing up, slamming into Antonio's chest and pushing him back, almost causing the man to fall over.

“The-the fuck!” he spat, sending the other man a murderous look as he felt a blush cover his face that he could only hope wasn't noticeable in the dark. “That's twice you've done that tonight! Me being distracted doesn't give you the right to fucking grope me!”

Antonio's face looked the perfect mixture of confused and bashful. “G-groping? I just wanted to cheer you up!” he said, his words still slurring.

“Cheering me up isn't invading my personal space! And I don't need cheering up, anyway!”

“You looked sad though!” Antonio protested. “You weren't even frowning in that way you-”

“I was just thinking about what a pain you are! You didn't need to go and prove it.”

Antonio held his hands up in defeat, but he had a slight smile on his lips that only aggravated Lovino more. “OK, OK, Lovi, I'm sorry! Please forgive me? Pleeeeeeeease? Pleeeeee-”

“Just move. No, on your own!” He added as Antonio tried to lean on him again. “Your foot should be fine now.” _And if it isn't I couldn't care less,_ Lovino added silently.

“Awww, but I like leaning on yo-”

“One more word and you can _walk_ back. I'm only doing this for Feli, so don't test me.”

Antonio opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it. With a smile, he did an over-exaggerated motion of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Lovino rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his coat and walking on, Antonio trailing behind him. His stomach was a complete knot. One made of snakes, writhing. He chewed on his lower lip and tried to push the memory of Antonio’s warmth out his mind. He didn’t need to start down that road again. _I make do._ They walked the last five minutes to the car in silence, or rather, Lovino did, while Antonio loudly hummed some unrecognisable tune. Not gracing the Spaniard with a word, Lovino fished the keys out and opened the car before shepherding Antonio into the passenger seat and getting into the driver's seat himself, slotting the keys in and starting the engine.

“Seatbelt,” he said, fastening his own as Antonio slouched down in the passenger seat.

The still-tipsy Spaniard spent a few seconds pulling himself round and reaching behind him, groping around for the belt before he put on an exaggerated pout, turning round to Lovino. “Loviii, I can't find it.”

Lovino growled, clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Fuck, just how fucking useless can you be!?” he snapped at his offending passenger. Exhaling in irritation, he undid his own seatbelt and reached over, one hand supporting himself on the closed door, the other taking the seatbelt by the seat that Antonio had somehow managed to miss. _He's doing it on purpose, I swear!_ “There, see? Just. Right. Fucking. There. Not hard to miss. Have you recovered from your bout of blindness or would you maybe like me to buckle it for you too?”

He felt Antonio's breath tickle his ear again as the Spaniard moved his head forward until his mouth was level with Lovino's ear. “Didn't think you'd be into tying me up,” he said, drunkenly flashing Lovino another one of his endless grins. The smile was soon wiped off as Lovino sent his head sideways into Antonio's face. Antonio gave a yelp of surprise as the side of Lovino's head slammed into his face, hands jumping up to clutch his nose. “Lovi,” he whined, voice slightly nasal. He put on another exaggerated pout. “You're so mean!”

“You're repeating yourself, doucheass,” Lovino said shortly, looking out the driver-side window to hide the traitorous blush that had again crept onto his face. He didn't usually blush like this at everything. What was up with him? Some small, forgotten part of him tried to answer and he throttled it down. He glanced over at the over man who was still holding his nose and felt a twinge of guilt at having hurt Antonio, he could only hope he hadn't hit too hard. This thought in itself made him frown further. _He deserved it, the perverted_ _bastard_ _. Saying shit like that._ “Sorry. Nose not bleeding?” he finally asked, forcing his face into a neutral expression, his tone softer. Antonio shook his head, letting go of his nose. “Good. Buckle up and tell me where I'm supposed to drop you off. You need sleep.” He started the engine, fastening his own seatbelt as Antonio managed to find enough hand-eye coordination to secure his own without help this time and tell Lovino his address.

They were both silent as Lovino guided the car through the mostly-empty streets. Antonio was slouched down in his seat, his eyes closed, breathing fairly loud, while Lovino kept his own eyes fixed on the road before him. With the little traffic that there was at this hour, it only took fifteen or so minutes for the car to find itself grounding to a halt in the parking of the apartment complex. Antonio didn't move, eyes still closed, head resting on the window.

“We're here,” Lovino said, his scowl – never far away – returning. The Spaniard didn't respond, still leaning down in his seat, eyes shut. “Oi! We're here! Fuck, I swear, if you've fallen asleep.” Lovino sighed – something he seemed to do fairly often when in the Spaniard's company – unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over to wake up the apparently sleeping man, one hand leaning on the car door to stabilize himself.

Antonio stirred, one hand searching for the door handle. “OK, OK, 'm moving,” he mumbled, blinking sleepily. His hand found the handle, jerking the door open and leaving empty space where Lovino's hand had been resting. Lovino just had time to swear before collapsing down from where he had been leaning over Antonio to find himself strewn across the Spaniard's lap. It took Antonio a few seconds to clear the cloud of sleep and realize what he'd done.

As it dawned on him, a grin grew on his face. “Awww, Lovi. Just a goodnight kiss would be fine, though if you really want we can go up to my apartment,” he said, laughing and ignoring the murderous look Lovino was sending him.

“Sh-shut the fuck up you perverted bastard!” Lovino spat, restraining himself from hitting the Spaniard a third time tonight and picking himself up. His face was hot, he could be sure it was probably glowing red. At this distance he was struck once more by Antonio’s eyes, that brilliant green, shining in the low light of the car. He pulled himself free, scowling ferociously. “You do this on purpose, I swear! This only happens around you!”

Antonio grinned at him, getting out the car. He took a few steps, before turning around to face the car again. “Just a joke, Lovi, I’m sorry,” he said, voice still slightly slurred but clearly beginning to sober up slightly. Lovino flipped him the bird, still glowering furiously as he started the car again. Antonio simply laughed. “Thanks for the ride Lovi!”

He didn't respond at first, instead opting to reach over, intending to slam the passenger-side door shut. Then with a moment’s hesitation he let out a gruff “No problem,” before he did, and with Antonio waving him off he drove out of the parking lot.


	5. Chapter 5

The phone rang and a scowling Lovino untangled himself from his sheets and grabbed it, checking the time: 9:27am. Since he usually worked the night-shifts he tended to sleep in late. He looked to see who was calling: Feliciano. His brother occasionally called Lovino to talk, but usually he'd only call in the afternoon, knowing that Lovino worked long nights. With a sigh, he accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear, blinking drowsily and rubbing his eyes with his free hand, letting out a yawn.

“Hey Lovi!” Feliciano's bright and chirpy voice assaulted his ear from the other line, speaking their native Italian. “I'm not interrupting anything am I?”

“Oh, you know, just my sleep. I mean, goddammit Feli, you know full well I don't get up for another half-hour at least, how many times do we have to go over this?”

“But then half the day will be gone!”

“And I usually work half the night so it's not like I'm sleeping my life away. God dammit, it's far too early for your lectures on 'good living'. ‘Early to bed and early to wake’ doesn’t work when you work a job until midnight.”

“Sorry! I didn't want to leave it too late though and I-”

Lovino interrupted him there, sensing that his brother was probably on the cusp of devolving into another tangent and wasting both their time. “Leave what late?”

“Oh! I was wondering if you wanted to come for dinner this evening! Normally you don't work in the evening today right? So, it should be fine. Please?” Lovino mulled it over in his mind, saying nothing for a few seconds. He knew he was probably going to accept, and Feli probably knew so too. He was always secretly pleased when Feliciano invited him over for dinner, as he usually did two or three times a month or so. It showed that while the two of them might have drifted apart since their childhood, especially in their social lives, they remained family.

That said, he never liked to appear too eager so he left the line silent for a few moments before replying. “OK fine, what time?”

“Is six OK?”

“Fine. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No, it's all alright!” There was a pause. “Uh, also...”

“What?”

“No, nothing! I'll see you then, then!”

“Yeah, sure, now let me sleep, bye.”

“Bye!” And with that Lovino hung up the phone, replacing it by his bedside and collapsing back into bed, sighing. Since it was Sunday he had no work today, and could probably sleep well into the afternoon if he wanted. That said he hated doing that, it messed up his entire sense of time and despite what he'd told Feliciano, it left him feeling like he'd wasted the entire day, even if the usual time he got up tended to be when most of the morning had passed anyway. He looked over to the clock again: 9:36. His alarm would go off in less than a half-hour, and there was no way he'd fall asleep again in that time nor was it worth it. Groaning, he pulled the sheets off from him and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his trousers off his chair and pulling them on before leaving the room to make breakfast.

What was left of the morning passed quickly as Lovino had his usual coffee and breakfast before settling himself on his couch and reading for an hour or so. The afternoon likewise passed quickly and before long Lovino shrugged on his jacket and headed for the door. Feliciano lived on the other side of the city, more than an hour's walk away. His apartment was further from the city centre but in a much nicer neighbourhood than Lovino's: it paid to have a fancy art job rather than just being a bartender. Despite having a car, Lovino tended to walk to most places in the city – shops, work, and so on. But he was not prepared to spend an hour trudging in the autumn cold, his breath collecting in the air the moment he stepped outside, but neither was he prepared to forego wine with dinner, so a short bus ride later he found himself at the foot of Feliciano's apartment building. Feliciano must have seen him coming as a short elevator ride to the third floor and he was promptly pulled into a hug by his grinning brother.

Lovino let a small but sincere smile creep onto his face as he gave Feliciano a small pat on the back. “Yeah, yeah. Happy to see you too. Let's not make some big scene,” he muttered, slipping into their native Italian.

Feliciano let go of him, still grinning like a maniac. “Well then, come in, come in. How's everything at work? I saw Manon just the other day at the city centre and-” He started babbling, caught up in his story as he usually was. Feliciano had a knack for conversation, he could always think of a conversation piece, or talk for ages without boring people, even if he just babbled as he was doing now. Lovino though mostly hated small talk; he quite frankly did not care to spend time talking about about how the weather was not the same as yesterday's, or how some man's hat had flown away when you were shopping, or how your neighbour upstairs had apparently dropped something heavy, waking you up at two in the morning. Conversation for conversation's sake usually bored him unless it was genuinely interesting or funny. He stepped into the apartment as Feliciano continued to talk excitedly about his and Manon's meeting, only half-listening to his brother. The small entry hallway was its usual clean self, but he knew from long experience that only the corridor and the living room were this tidy, for polite show and convenience. The rest of the place would be strewn all over with random things his brother hadn't bothered to tidy away: books or magazines he'd been reading, clothes he'd just abandoned on the floor or on chairs, and sometimes even art supplies from where he'd left his work room with a tube of paint or the like and just put it down somewhere while doing something else and left it there.

Feliciano was wrapping up his little story about his visit to the city centre as Lovino followed him to the kitchen. Two pots were bubbling on the stove and he could hear the hum of the oven, cooking a log-like piece of meat.

“Smells good,” he commented.

Feliciano grinned his thanks, nodding. “ _Ve_ , you’ve seemed happier the past weeks.”

“Eh?” Lovino’s brows furrowed a moment, wondering what his brother meant. When Feli didn’t answer, he leant back against the counter. “Need any help?”

Feliciano shook his head, pulling two wine-glasses from a cupboard and setting them onto the counter. “It's all fine, it's rice, meatloaf, veggies, and potatoes. That's all good, right?” He took a bottle of red wine from beneath the counter, opening it and filling up the pair of glasses, offering one to Lovino.

Lovino took it and shrugged. “Yeah, sure, that's all fine.” He took a sip of the wine, letting it rest on his tongue to get a good taste before swallowing. “A bit much just for two though – and odd choice.” He grinned. “It's usually just pasta.”

Feliciano leant against the wall, looking over at Lovino opposite him. Lovino could clearly see he was hesitating to speak – never a good sign. “Yeah...” He drifted off before taking a sip of wine and continuing. “About that. I…was going to tell you before but Ludwig is coming over too. Antonio too.”

A scowl jumped onto Lovino's face. “What.”

Feliciano bit his lip, not meeting Lovino's glare. “I was gonna tell you on the phone, but...”

“But?”

“But if I had, you'd have refused to come!”

“Damn right! As if I'd want to spend time with Mr. Muscle and Mr. Clueless. This is our time.” He had to put up with Antonio at work and now the man was going to follow him into his private time with his brother? “Why Antonio, anyway?”

“Well I thought it might be nice for you to meet Luddy properly, but thought it might be better for you to have a friend here too-”

“And you settled on _Antonio!?_ ”

Feliciano changed the subject, face a mix of a frown and sulking pout. “You think I enjoy having to lie to my brother just to get him to spend time with people? You'd like them if you just spent more time with them! And I mean _actually_ spending time with them, not hurling insults and looking for excuses to leave!”

“Excuse me? Who I'm friends with is my _own_ fucking concern. I don't need you acting like some little social guru trying to force me into making friends with people I can't stand!” Lovino's face was red now; Feliciano's neutral: that in itself was unusual, he was usually intensely upset during these arguments. He'd obviously been expecting this reaction and prepared himself ahead. That didn't make Lovino any calmer.

Feliciano continued regardless. “That's not true! I've seen you and Antonio, you definitely like him way more than you pretend. So yeah, I thought of him when I decided to invite a friend of yours. And you'd probably like his friends too, if you gave them a chance!”

“I don't need you to act like my personal shrink god-fucking-dammit! Why don't you just invite the whole gang then while you're at it? You pretty much only babble about the four of them nowadays anyway.” He found his hand was actually shaking with rage now, some wine sloshing up the sides of the glass to spill out in little red droplets on the counter. His face was reddening, feelings he’d thought he’d long ago locked away felt like they were straining to break free once more.

“The four? You mean Gilbert and Francis? They're both out of town, Francis is- hey! Don't change the subject!” Feli's eyes finally met Lovino's, more defiant this time. “I'm not trying to act like your 'personal shrink'. I just want you to get to know my friends better – if you like them, great! If not, fine! At least you would have _tried_! That's your problem, you never even try, you just write people off before you've even met them! Or you just take an initial impression then ignore anything else! It's not always some big evil conspiracy with everyone out to get you!” Feliciano was beginning to get worked up too now, putting his glass down and crossing his arms as he frowned at Lovino.

Lovino leant against the counter in total silence, scowling into his glass, swirling the wine round. Across from him Feliciano was biting his lip, clearly worried he'd gone too far and that Lovino was about to throw an angry tantrum and storm out. How could Feliciano understand? He’d been too young at first to understand...then he’d been the golden child for the rest of their childhood. It was Lovino that had been the broken one, a defective child who grew up into a defective adult. Even now Feli was the successful one. Yet after his last outburst against Antonio Lovino wasn't feeling much like reacting so strongly, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as he blew air out between his teeth. “Whatever,” he said at last. “I'm already here and the food's already ready.” He had a feeling he'd be regretting his decision. There was no doubt that he'd be better served finishing his glass and leaving now, but the truth was...he almost felt some anticipation of having Antonio here, somewhere away from the bar, away from cold streets. A… more normal scene, it was something that made his heart beat harder and stomach ache.

A relieved smile leapt onto Feliciano's face at his words though. “Great! Thank you! I'm serious, just give them a proper chance. Please, Lovi. I mean, if you don't try to get to know them how can you ever know if you'd be friends or not?” Lovino simply grunted, keeping his face still furious, eyes still fixed on his drink.

An uneasy silence enveloped the two as they stood there, emotions calming, sipping at their wine without a word. Apparently reassured Lovino wasn't going to storm off back home any moment now, after two minutes or so Feliciano pushed himself off the wall and moved off to the cooker, checking on the food. Lovino watched him for a while, staring at his glass until he heard a knock.

Feliciano didn't look round from where he was carefully taking the meatloaf out from the oven. “That's probably Ludwig. Can you go get it?” Lovino didn't move. “Pleeease Lovi?” With a deep sigh Lovino pushed himself off the counter, turning round out of the kitchen towards the door. He hesitated once at the door, hand hovering over the lock. The knock came again, strong against the wood. He sighed once again for good measure and opened the door.

He was greeted by Ludwig's impassive face; the German didn't seem too surprised to see him there, no doubt Feliciano had warned in advance that Lovino might be present. The thought of being warned against like some hazard or pest almost brought another scowl to Lovino's face before he forced his expression to remain polite and neutral.

Ludwig gave what he was sure was a forced smile, holding his hand out politely. “Ah, uh, good evening Lovino. I hope everything is good?”

“Could be better,” Lovino ground out, ignoring the proffered hand and moving back from the doorway to let the larger man in.

“Come on through Luddy, I'm just finishing the food!” Feliciano called from the kitchen.

“ _Luddy_ , pfff...” Lovino muttered under his breath, half-chuckling, half-mocking. He'd already heard the nickname from Feliciano but using it to embarrass the man in person felt much better. Indeed, he felt a pang of delight at seeing a small red flush fill Ludwig's face before the German moved off in direction of the kitchen, murmuring a thanks to Lovino. He closed the door and leant against it, rolling his eyes as he listened to Feliciano and Ludwig greet each other and Feli began to babble about his day to the German. He did not like how close the two were getting: even to the point of having nicknames. What was next, pet names? Or could you already consider 'Luddy' a pet name? He spent at least a few minutes slouched in the hall, unwilling to go and find himself playing the third wheel to the pair, or worse, end up having the two try to strike up an awkward forced conversation to include him. Why had he stayed? The last few weeks had slowly been shattering the uneasy peace he’d made with his life, dredging up reminders he desperately wanted to avoid. Ever since Antonio had appeared... Yet another sigh escaped his lips as he crossed his arms, forcing his mind off the Spaniard and trying to drown out the inane prattle coming from the kitchen. He clenched his fist. This was supposed to be his and Feliciano's time. He already had to put up with the German and his friends when they turned up with Feli at the bar, why did he have to now put up with them here, in the last refuge of what family time he and Feliciano had?

Another knock on the door jarred him out of his thoughts. He didn't move for a few seconds and the knock rung again. Feli's voice sounded from the other room. “Lovi, can you-”

“I'm on it,” Lovino snapped back, not letting Feliciano finish as he pushed himself off the door and turning round to face it. Once more he hesitated before opening it. He knew who'd be on the other side and he wasn't sure he wanted to see him after last night. A few more seconds passed before he finally swung the door open.

Antonio indeed stood on the other side, his perpetual grin on his face as ever. He didn't waste a second, holding his hand out. “ _¡Hola_ Lovino! How's things?”

Lovino sighed, this time he didn’t ignore the proffered hand, instead resigning himself to giving the man a handshake. He replied with the same neutral response he'd given Ludwig. “Could be better.” He moved out the way, letting the Spaniard in.

“Work all good?”

“You were there just yesterday. I don't work Sundays, hence why I'm here, so yes, work has been exactly the same since you last saw me at it.”

Antonio simply chuckled at this, smile never faltering, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I forgot you don't work today.”

“Not exactly difficult to remember.”

Antonio raised his hands defensively, his smile dropping slightly into a more flustered expression. “Yeah, sorry. I just sorta asked the question before remembering is all.” Lovino said nothing to that, knowing perfectly well that he was being unfair and jumping on anything he could. Overly aggressive maybe, but definitely stress relieving. Despite that, a small, wry smile formed on his face at seeing the other man’s fluster, and that seemed to bring Antonio’s bright, warm grin back. That in turn, left a feeling of warmth creeping through Lovino, and he found himself gazing at Antonio a while longer. He’d never quite taken in how much those green eyes shone, how his grin lit up his face and left it looking like- Lovino wiped the smile from his face the second he realised he was gawking, his face growing a little hot, and with a small nod but no further words he simply crossed his arms and stalked back to the other room. Feliciano and Ludwig were still talking about some inane thing or another as they began moving the food off to the table.

“Glad you could make it, Antonio! Please sit down guys, we'll eat soon, don't want it to get cold!” Feliciano said, beaming widely as Antonio followed Lovino through. Lovino sat himself down, listening disinterestedly as Antonio, Ludwig and Feliciano began talking between themselves about some nonsense or another, keeping his eyes trained on the various paintings hung up around the room instead. Feliciano had always been proud of his artwork and liked nothing better than to display it, even if he never drew attention to it. Lovino remembered the one time he'd commented on them, his brother had puffed up with pride even as he pretended they were nothing much. A frown settled on his face as his mind drifted to several covered canvasses and abandoned painting supplies hidden away by another Italian in another room, in another apartment. _Another life..._

Antonio sat himself down to the left of Lovino around the square table. Ludwig brought over the potatoes and rice, one in each hand and placed them in the centre of the table, sitting himself opposite him, so that Feliciano would be to Lovino's right.

Lastly, Feliciano brought over the meatloaf, bringing it over in a tray so that it was marinating in its juices. “Help yourself guys!” he said eagerly, a wide smile on his face as he sat himself down. He began chatting excitedly to Antonio about how everything was, while he poured out some wine to everyone. Ludwig nodded, taking up the cutlery and slicing into the meat, offering a piece to Feliciano, then to Antonio and finally to Lovino, who brought up his plate and grunted his thanks, keeping a neutral, disinterested expression on his face. Lovino helped himself to a few potatoes and a helping of rice, keeping his eyes trained on the food as he pushed it around his plate in-between mouthfuls, only half listening to the conversation between the other three men. Feliciano and Antonio seemed to have moved on from updating each other about their lives into discussion over work, Ludwig joining in. He learnt that Ludwig worked in some sort of accounting job, while Antonio was a shop assistant in a local shop, sorting out deliveries, cleaning, stacking, paperwork anything that needed doing. It sounded like he all-but-ran the shop for the owner. What was Lovino even still doing here? He had no desire to be here at all, he'd come to see and chat with his brother, now he had to put up with these two clowns monopolising Feliciano's time and drowning out any proper conversation he could have with his brother by discussing their inane prattle. He couldn’t even speak with Antonio, whose time was likewise being taken up by the other two and-

“What about yourself, Lovino?” A voice suddenly jolted him out of his thoughts and he raised his eyes to find himself being stared at by all three others. “How's work been treating you?” Ludwig continued, clearly intent on trying to include his new friend's brother in the conversation. Damn him, he was almost perfect for Feliciano in the way he seemed intent on doing that as much as Feli. His face flushed red under the stares of the trio. He glanced to Antonio who gave him a broad grin and a little wink, clearly remembering how Lovino had responded when the Spaniard had asked him the same question in the hall.

Lovino rolled his eyes. “Oh it's been just peachy,” he replied, voice laced with sarcasm. A thin sardonic smile slipped onto his face as he glanced again over at Antonio who was still grinning. “Although there's been a new customer these past few weeks.” He raised his glass to his lips, taking a sip. “Real piece of work, harasses the staff like you wouldn't believe, quite the class act.”

Feliciano and Ludwig seemed confused, but it took just a few seconds for Antonio to understand just who Lovino was referring to and as he did, a wide smile grew on his own face and he innocently took a sly sip of his own drink. “Oh, I don't know,” he said, voice feigning innocence, “by all accounts their barman there is quite the act himself. Harasses the customers like you wouldn’t believe.”

Lovino turned, eyes boring into Antonio's. “I'm sure he could never get even close to the shit this guy's been up to. Had to be driven home one time because he'd somehow managed to hurt himself and couldn't walk.”

Antonio's smile only grew. “That wasn’t at the bar though. Didn't you- ah, _'the barman'_ need to be taken home one night too?” He finished the rest of his glass, his wry grin still on his face. “Had to be escorted all the way to his door, as I remember.”

“Only because you're a paranoid stalker and Manon can't leave well enough alone. I could have got home perfectly fine, let alone right up to my door,” Lovino ground out, dropping the pretence of who exactly they were talking about. His response provoked a chuckle from the Spaniard and he speared a small potato onto his fork, pointing it accusingly towards the man, another thin smile forming on his face. “At least I never had to be _buckled into my own seat_ because I couldn't work a simple seat-belt.”

“Well-”

“Nor did _I_ fall asleep on the way back.”

It was Feliciano who spoke next, an excited look on his face as though he'd just stumbled on a treasure trove. “Hey, what's all this about? You never told me anything about this! Did you need to be taken home one night, Lovi?”

“What have you been getting up to, Antonio?” Ludwig added, as if to counterbalance the interrogation by including the Spaniard.

“I didn't _need_ to be,” Lovino retorted, spinning round to face his brother. “I would have gotten back perfectly fine and safely. And it's none of your business anyway.”

Antonio though, chuckled, nodding at Feliciano's words and continuing on despite Lovino. “Well maybe two weeks ago or so, Lovino got drunk one evening-”

“I did not get drunk! I was perfectly fine!” Lovino protested.

“You couldn’t even stand up to storm off without crashing into the stool-”

“I slipped!”  
“Repeatedly over the night, as I recall-”

Lovino turned around to face the Spaniard again. “Why are you even bringing it up? It's not like we had some magical fucking adventure, all we did was walk a while, have a nice talk, and then go our separate ways. Now just drink your goddamn wine and shut up,” he said, grabbing the bottle of wine from the table and pouring some into Antonio's glass, mustering the best glare he could. He poured himself some more too and took a sip of it. Despite the death-glare he was sending the Spaniard, he didn't feel nearly as angry as he'd expected to be and he was fighting a losing battle to keep a small smirk off from his face. The others seemed to notice, because Feliciano had a dopey grin mixed with intense curiosity, while Ludwig’s face was impassive but relaxed, seemingly reassured the conversation was merely banter and not a furious argument waiting to happen. Antonio duly stopped talking, raising the wine-glass to his lips, though his sly smile remained even as Feliciano pressed for more information, clearly intent on digging something up. With neither Lovino nor Antonio detailing further, the conversation drifted off to other matters. Time passed quickly as they ate and chatted about various topics, Lovino occasionally butting in to add his opinion on the matter but saying little more otherwise.

As everyone finished eating they cleared the table. The whole little dinner having been planned on such short notice Feliciano had no proper dessert to offer, simply suggesting fruits instead, with tea, coffee or more wine. Lovino declined all of them, insisting that he had a busy day tomorrow and had stuff to prepare, though the look on his brother's face suggested Feliciano had seen straight through his attempt at finding an excuse to leave. Still, the fact that he’d stayed for the dinner and even managed polite conversation with both Ludwig and Antonio seemed to placate any pleas his brother might otherwise have made. Giving them all a curt, polite goodbye and a thanks to Feli for the dinner, he got up, moving off to grab his jacket and shrugging it on before heading for the door.

He'd just stepped out into the night air when a hand grabbed the door behind him, holding it open. Lovino turned to glance at its owner and frowned as he saw just who it was. His usual grin on his face, Antonio stepped out beside Lovino. “ _Hola_ ,” he said, “had to go early too, early for work tomorrow.”

Lovino sighed, nodding, a little wry smirk crossing his face. “Don't want to be the third wheel, too, I imagine.”

A confused expression hit the other man's face and he tilted his head. “Eh?”

Lovino simply stared at him for a few seconds. “Oh c'mon, you _must_ have noticed the pair up there making googly eyes at each other?” he said disbelievingly. Antonio shook his head. “Fuck, half of what Feli talks about nowadays is 'Luddy this' and 'Luddy that'! They've got pet names! Feli calls him Luddy!”

Antonio laughed, shrugging and doing up his coat. He stepped away from the door, starting to walk down the hallway, Lovino followed him. “And he calls you Lovi and you call him Feli, they're nicknames, not pet names. I'm sure they're just friends, Lovino. Don't you think you're taking things the wrong way? What’s wrong even if there is something there? Ludwig’s a good guy.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, a sharp chuckle escaping his lips. “Sure, let me just believe the unobservant idiot. You'd think a Spaniard would be able to pick up those sorts of signs.”

“Hey now! That's a hateful stereotype, puts all sort of undue pressure on us.” The tanned man grinned. “Though I'm sure as an Italian you must have had people make those sorts of assumptions too.”

A short barking laugh escaped Lovino and he gave the man brief grin. “Oh please, with my attitude?” Antonio chuckled at that as silence descended between the two of them for a few seconds. It was a harsh cry from yesterday.

The silence broke as Antonio reached up to scratch the back of his neck, looking across at him. “Uh, hey, before I forget. Are you free around 12 tomorrow? If so, do you want to maybe go get a coffee or something maybe?” Lovino stood stony-faced for several seconds. This again? Did the man ever give up? He opened his mouth to deliver a sharp refusal but stopped, instead standing there and saying nothing for several seconds longer, mind churning through all this. Why did this guy never give up? Did Antonio really think they could be friends? Hadn't the insults and sheer unfriendliness Lovino had dished out told him just what he thought of that? The fact that Antonio was still insistent on Lovino’s company despite all that made his chest tighten oddly. He didn't make much of a good friend anyway, and how could the Spaniard enjoy spending time with him when half of what Lovino said were just insults? Feelings he’d locked away long ago were dredging up, and he felt almost queasy with a sudden anxiety. Maybe the man just hadn't spent enough time with him to realise that he was wasting his time. Every instinct screamed to refuse, to go home. Resume the life he’d built for himself away from the past. Safe, scheduled, with little besides work, home, and Feli to bring back- But all he did was sigh deeply and, give a shrug. “Fine,” he said shortly. He could have kicked himself.

A wider grin shot onto Antonio's face as he nodded happily. “Great!” They spoke a few minutes or so longer as the Spaniard suggested a coffee-shop near the main square, telling him they should meet at the square near midday since that was when he had an hour's lunch break. Then with a wave the two separated into the night. Breath collecting before him in the cold night air, Lovino shoved his hands into his jacket, staring down at the ground. He was not sure he was happy with what he'd agreed to. His feelings were churning, a complete mess. Sighing once more for good measure he crossed the road, kicking the curb softly, lost in thought as he made his way down to the bus-stop and home.


	6. Chapter 6

Lovino was already frowning deeply as he got up the next day. He was cracking, he could feel it. His shell was splintering in oh-so-many places. The damn Spaniard was ever so slowly worming his way into Lovino's life bit by bit, day by day. Every time they met he found the man less and less irritating. Every time they met, long-forgotten feelings lurked in the back of his mind where he’d buried them long ago. Not all good ones. Feliciano's words from last evening rose unbidden to his mind; _I've seen you and Antonio, you definitely like him more than you pretend._ Lovino scowled at his reflection as he shaved, knuckles white from gripping his razor. _Goddammit Feli_ : for all Feliciano's air-headed personality, he could be amazingly perceptive, poking his nose everywhere and somehow always managing to be right about Lovino. As he went about his morning routine Lovino's mind churned over the situation. What exactly was he so upset about anyway? What was wrong with making a new friend? Surely if he was starting to enjoy Antonio's company that was a good thing? The man was friendly, put up with Lovino’s temper, he was easy on the eyes, handsome even.

If he went today he'd have seen the Spaniard three days in a row, certainly not exactly the best way to avoid someone, and certainly not the way someone who hated the man would be acting. And yet at the same time he couldn't hide the familiar old feelings that he'd felt so many times before. Reminding him what happened every time, how little he deserved. _God in Heaven, I hate dealing with people._ He valued his peace and quiet. He didn’t do friends. Not anymore. Not ever, really. Hell, the only reason he was anything even resembling friends with Manon was because he worked with her, and work was the only place they ever saw each other. Being gregarious, making friends, keeping them, being at the centre of events and people; that was all Feliciano's territory, it always had been. Lovino had learnt better to believe he could be the same. Feliciano had inherited the social genes, Lovino had not, he could – had come to – accept that.

He frowned up at the clock, it was already half-eleven. He'd agreed to meet Antonio around twelve at the central town square. It took about thirty minutes at most to walk there from his apartment, if he left now he'd get there nicely on time. He didn't, however, instead loafing around the kitchen several minutes longer, mumbling to himself as he tidied a few things away. There was a knot in his stomach this morning that he couldn't seem to get rid of. Was he coming down with something? Was he nervous about going? He glanced at the clock, quarter to twelve. _Am I even going?_ Antonio’s bright smile rose in his mind, that memory of how the man always seemed happy to see Lovino in a way that others were not. Against his instincts to stay in his apartment, safe, where everything was outlined and regulated, he gave a pained sigh and grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, pulling on his jacket and stepping out into the cold, crisp Autumn air.

He arrived at the square ten minutes late, face slightly red from the cold and the walk as he looked around through the crowds of people passing through, trying to spot the Spaniard. Had Antonio already assumed that Lovino wasn't coming and left? He was only ten minutes late, that seemed excessive. And even if Lovino had been twenty or thirty minutes late, leaving didn't seem like Antonio at all. _The man gives up for nothing..._ It was almost endear-

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, letting out a small strangled cry of surprise as he spun round to fine himself opposite the grinning face of the tanned man he'd been looking for. “Hey there Lovino! Glad you could make it,” the Spaniard said immediately, cutting Lovino off just as he'd been about to spout off a furious remark over surprising him thus.

“Yeah,” Lovino replied simply, “sorry I'm late, I, uh, was busy. Lost track of time a moment.” No need to tell him that he’d almost decided not to come.

Antonio nodded, telling him it was all right as they exchanged pleasantries several moments longer. Finally, he held his hand out. For a few seconds Lovino was worried that he actually expected him to hold it, but instead Antonio simply beckoned, sending him a wide grin. “It's this way, c'mon, let's get out of the cold,” he said, turning on his heel and moving off, Lovino moving to follow him at his side, trying to follow the Spaniard’s incessant babbling.

The coffee shop that Antonio had wanted to show him turned out to be a small two-storey building at the corner of a side-alley. The place was cozy, with only a half-dozen other customers there at the time and tended to by a sleepy tanned man with rather wild brown hair and an accent Lovino couldn't place. Antonio ordered a simple cup of coffee, leaving it black, Lovino a cappuccino, and they moved up to the second floor where they could sit by the window, looking out over the street. They sat opposite each other, Lovino staring down at his cup as he stirred the froth absent-mindedly, bringing it up to take a breath of that rich scent. Opposite him, Antonio was still grinning wide, his eyes seeming to drink in Lovino’s movement.

“What? Coffee is good,” the Italian grumbled.   
Antonio’s grin only grew. “You just looked particularly cute like that.” Lovi spluttered out some profanities, feeling his face grow hotter. Antonio though merely glancing at his watch like nothing. “OK! We've got just over a forty minutes before I have to be getting back to work.”

There was a brief silence between the two of them before Lovino spoke, raising his cup to his lips. “Where exactly do you work again?” He could vaguely remember it coming up at the dinner yesterday but couldn’t remember, a shop he thought.

“Not far from here at all. Just head across the square, down that alley with the Chinese market, y'know the one, _Wang's_ or something, it's a small shop just beside there, sells tools and materials, does repairs and works too.”

“Good job?”

Antonio was beaming ear to ear, as though the fact they were having a normal conversation with no acerbic or sarcastic remarks was unbelievably enjoyable. “Pretty good! Owner's old, so I do all the lifting, stacking, arranging, cleaning, all that. Help with the paperwork, hell, I basically run the store while he focuses on the repairwork. Hours are fairly full, and pay's good with that.”

“Considering how often you go drinking, I imagine it must be.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow, flashing him a wry grin. “I don't go drinking that often.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, giving him a sly smirk. “Oh, so all those drinks I've served you were all in my imagination? Or do you have several twins who all happen to come to the same bar and pretend to know me?”

“Well, you're a pretty big drinker yourself,” the Spaniard responded, flashing him a wink. Lovino sighed, sticking his tongue out a bit in what he knew was a childish move before staring down at his cup. This was...pleasant. It made a little thrill in his chest that he couldn’t tamper down, a feeling he’d long since lost or extracted out of him.

Silence descended between the two of them again for a few seconds before Antonio spoke again before the quiet could grow to awkward. “So, uh, hope you don't mind me asking, but Feli said you guys came over from Austria-”

Lovino rolled his eyes, giving a pained sigh. “But we're Italian and lived in Rome? Yeah, that's Feli, confusing people as ever.” He stopped there, a slight tenseness rising in his chest, but he could see Antonio was waiting for the full explanation. “We grew up in Italy with our granddad until I was 13 – Feli 11 – then we moved with family friends in Austria after he passed away, right on the border with Hungary. I moved here for uni, flunked, but managed to be allowed to stay,” he shrugged, “Feliciano followed but succeeded. There, nice little life story for you too, surprised Feli hasn't told you it yet. In fact, I'm pretty sure _I've_ told you it before.” Antonio said nothing, taking a sip of his coffee. There was a curious expression on his face, and Lovino was already ready for the questions he really didn’t want to answer, ready to deflect if should come questions probing any further back than that. But Antonio remained silent, apparently having more sense than to ask any further into Lovino's life.

Fiddling with his spoon, it struck Lovino that he actually knew very little of Antonio’s life. “What about yourself?”

“Me? Oh I grew up in Spain, small town in Castilla y Léon, moved here about five years ago when I was 22.” The tanned man looked down, staring into his own cup. “Uh...not much to say really.” He gave a small chuckle and looked up, a smile plastered on his face. “Pretty boring really. Moved here, did odd jobs around everywhere, met Francis and through him Gilbert and the others. Got the job at the shop, that’s been steady for a year now, nothing special.”

“Special is overrated,” Lovino said simply, shrugging. “Not everyone needs a sob story or an action adventure as a childhood.”

Antonio chuckled. “Well, got plenty of adventures. One time I got lost in the mountains on holiday when I was six, ended up wandering about for over an hour before they found me.”

Lovino smirked, giving the other a sly look. “Guess that persistence of yours must have helped, huh?” Antonio only laughed, giving him a wide smile. “Feli and I got lost tons of times too. Roderich and Elizabeta own a place in the country, so we'd spend most of our time in the fields or woods. This one time when I was about 13 or so we were messing around in the woods and it turned out one of the locals liked to let his wolfdog run around the area. So, this huge dog comes bounding out from the bushes, pouncing onto Feliciano. We thought it was an actual wolf though, so I tried to pull it off while he was pretty much having a panic attack, screaming and thrashing as the dog just licks him, tail wagging, probably thinking what a fun game this all is, you know, the whole works. Then the damn thing just gets up and goes off through the trees, probably back to its owner, and the two of us just ran like fucking Olympic athletes as far as we could until we realised we had no idea where we were any more. They only found us thanks to that damn dog sniffing us out in the end.”

Antonio laughed at that, raising his cup to his lips and drinking. “As good at making friends then as now,” he remarked, a sly smirk on his face. “That’s badass though! Trying to save your baby brother from a wolf!” Lovino only rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his own coffee. There was another short bout of silence as they drank, before Antonio punctured it. “So, are you working tonight?”

“No, I've got the afternoon shift on my own,” he glanced down at his watch, “in just over an hour. I'll probably stay some time this evening to keep Manon company though, not like I need to get up early tomorrow.” Lovino tilted his head, sending a suspicious gaze the Spaniard's way. “Why?” The other man only grinned, shrugging, to which he responded with a frown. “Planning to come and harass me, aren't you, you bastard?”

That got him a laugh, and he couldn’t help but give a little wry grin himself. Antonio took a sip of coffee before responding. “Harass isn't really the word I'd go for. I have a free evening, so I thought I might go get a drink, you know? Might see if the others want to turn up too.” Lovino only rolled his eyes again, the last thing he wanted was to end up being forced to hang around with some group he didn't even know. For some reason it disappointed him that Antonio would be distracted by other- _fuck, no it doesn’t, what am I thinking?_ He pushed the thought out of his mind and instead gave the other man a frown over his cup. “Putting up with you is already enough, I can’t imagine a group of your friends. Probably be out within five minutes of stepping in.”

“What do you mean?”

Lovino slowly stirred his coffee, leaning his head into his other hand as he stared impassively at the other man. “It’s a miracle you don’t get kicked out for harassing staff as it is,” he replied, giving a wry grin before continuing, “friend who can put up with you must be just as bad. You’d get kicked out within five minutes of entering. Then don’t come to me looking for sympathy.”

Antonio gave him a sly smirk. “ _Sympathy?_ From _you_?” He winked. “Wouldn't dream of it.” He'd clearly meant it as a joke, but Lovino frowned down into his nearly-empty cup. That was him alright. Unsympathetic. Unfriendly. He felt a slight persistent thought bother him at the back of his mind. Was that all Antonio thought of him? Some sullen, unreasonable man, never a good word for anyone else? He _could_ be sympathetic if he wanted to, he _had_ been with Antonio sometimes, surely? He had a low tolerance for stupidity, that was all. And since the man opposite him hit all the notes for the “optimistic and air-headed” type that often irritated him, it was only normal that he could be gruff with Antonio, after all, no? He shook his head, what did it even matter what Antonio thought of him? Not long ago he'd been looking to chase the man away for good.

The Spaniard seemed to take his movement as just him dismissing the joke, chuckling as he drank up, setting down his empty cup. “Well, I should probably be heading back to work.”

“Already?” The word was out of Lovino's mouth before he'd realised it. He could have sworn a look of surprise and then delight flashed across Antonio's face.

“Gonna miss my company?” the Spaniard teased.

Lovino rolled his eyes in hopes of covering his slip up. “No, it's just I haven't finished my cup, pretty damn rude to leave when I'm still drinking.” Still, he raised his cup, draining it in one last gulp and setting it down with a click before shifting his chair back to get up and shrug his jacket back on.

They strode back out into the cold, heading back into the square. There Antonio stopped, turning around to face Lovino with his customary wide grin, his breath coming out as a mist between them.

“Well, gotta dash back to work. See you this evening maybe?”

He held his hand out and Lovino hesitated then took it, giving him a small handshake and shrugging. “Maybe. Bye.” He was about to turn away before he stopped, adding a quick. “I’ll see you then, hope work goes well.” It was stilted, but the wide grin that flashed onto Antonio’s face didn’t show anything. With that final grin Antonio nodded his thanks and turned back round himself, heading off to the other side of the square. Lovino watched for a few seconds before glancing down at his watch and heading off back home himself to get ready before work.

His shift passed without much happening. The bar opened in the afternoon but for the better part the majority of customers came during the evening. It was dark outside by the time eight rolled around and Manon came to take his place and he decided to stay a while longer to keep her company as he often did. The benefit of working mostly evenings and nights meant that he was used to staying up late and not having to get up early in the morning; if he went home he'd just spend the evening wasting his time watching TV or reading or something, so he might just as well stay.

* * *

It was almost half-past-eight when Antonio arrived as promised, flashing Lovino a grin as he made his way over, taking a seat beside him. “Hey again.”

“Evening.” Lovino took a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Just you?”

“Well the others might be along later, they had stuff to do first, I just left them about an hour ago, and Ludwig's with-”

“Feli. Yeah. There's a fucking surprise.”

A voice cut in. “I think they're cute together.” Lovino turned to see a grinning Manon leaning over the bar, head resting in her hands.

“You think that about every couple,” he retorted.

She smirked, sticking her tongue out cheekily and giving him a wink. “You two certainly are cute together too.”

He heard Antonio laugh and drum his fingers on the table as Lovino scowled, letting out a dismissive noise. “Get back to work and stop spouting crap.”

She giggled, sticking her tongue out cheekily at him and turning to the Spaniard. “So, what will it be?” As Antonio ordered his drink and Manon moved off to serve it, Lovino stared down at his own drink. He was already feeling light-headed, last thing he needed was a repeat of what had happened, what, almost two weeks ago now? It struck him he'd almost known Antonio over four weeks now, almost a month. It seemed a lot shorter than that, certainly an odd feeling. He took another gulp of his drink, why stop? He was light-headed, sure, but feeling fine. Manon set down Antonio's drink, taking the proffered payment and handing over the change with practised ease before turning her still-amused eyes towards Lovino, clearly intent on saying something further. He was in luck however, as before she could speak her eyes fell on a small gaggle of other customers stood at the other side of the bar, clearly waiting for a drink and so with another wink she left.

Antonio took up his drink and brought it to his lips for a long gulp. He took a large gulp of it in one easy swallow, coughing slightly at the strong taste that forced its way down his throat. “So, how's it been-”

“Since a few hours ago? I've met the love of my life and am running away with her overseas. How's that?”

The Spaniard let out a small chuckle, bright green eyes amused. “Well damn, just as we were getting to be friends. Hey, you'll keep in touch, right? Just a call now and then at least.”

Lovino let out a dismissive huff of air through his teeth, leaning back on his stool and taking another sip of his drink. “No calls. International costs are a bitch. Maybe a postcard. I'll invite you to the wedding, don't worry. Don’t show up though.”

Antonio laughed again at that, taking another swig of his drink, already emptying the glass and setting it down, giving Manon a wave as she chatted with another customer.

“Finished already?” she remarked, taking the glass. “Same again?” He nodded and soon had another drink in his hands, a wide grin still on his face as he turned to Lovino.

“Well then, a toast to your engagement?” he said, eyes bright and teasing as he held the glass up before him.

Whether it was the drink or not Lovino couldn't be sure, but he simply huffed in reply and took his own drink, clinking his glass against Antonio's and taking a swig of it. _The bastard can be acceptable company occasionally_ , he grudgingly admitted to himself. The pair sat by the corner of the bar for a good while longer, trading stories amidst the occasional jab from Lovino, drinking until Antonio was slouched on one arm, propping himself up against the bar, “No, no, it's true!”

Lovino huffed dismissively, giving the man a side-stare. He was finding it rather hard to concentrate, how much had he had? He himself was propped up against the bar. He tried to focus, pinning his gaze on Antonio's eyes, a rather vivid shade of green, he had to admit. But then it was no surprise that he could see them so clearly, the pair of them were less than two feet away from each other, slouched forward in each other's mutual directions. When had that happened? “Fuck, there's no way, you couldn’t ha-”

They were interrupted in their drunken argument by a cheery, trilling laugh. “Even drunk the pair of you just keep at it! Don't you get tired of arguing?” The two of them turned their unfocused gazes onto the figure of a giggling, grinning Manon.

Lovino harrumphed, giving her an exaggerated frown. “We're not arguing!” he protested and to prove it, his arm shot out, eliciting a surprised yelp from Antonio as it slid over the Spaniard's shoulder and hooked round his neck. He pulled the man in to a drunken, half-fall, half-hug, shoulders and torsos pressed together while Antonio’s arms flailed awkwardly in the air, unsure of where to go. “See? Best of friends! Now you deal with your own business!”

“Oh definitely, best of _friends_ ,” the Belgian woman continued with a little wink to Lovino, stooping down to pick up a glass and moving off with another small giggle to herself.

“Pff, wh-” Lovino turned his head to face Antonio, only to find his face buried in a tussle of messy brown hair. The drunken man had apparently taken Lovino's joking hug as an opportunity to rest his head on his shoulder, apparently finding it rather comfortable. Lovino huffed, air laced with a slight sweet, fruity scent he could only imagine came from Antonio. He was dimly aware he should maybe have been angry at how the Spaniard wasn't moving off, but to his slight surprise he felt nothing much but a slight thud in his chest. The alcohol no doubt. Well, why couldn't he let it slide for once? Antonio had been drinking rather heavily after all – as had he.

Still, he wasn't gonna sit here all evening. “Oi, you bastard,” he muttered, craning his neck back to avoid having his mouth stuck against the mess of dark brown that was the Spaniard's hair. “I'm not a pillow-” He let his arm slide free, but Antonio remained in place, muttering something that Lovino couldn't make out. “Oi, I'm not slurring _that_ much, I know you can hear-”

“Pretty touchy-feely for someone who didn't even want to be friends...” he heard Antonio mutter, seeming to catch himself now and leaning back, pulling himself off from Lovino's shoulder with a wry grin.

“What? I grabbed you by your neck to tell Manon to go away, hardly touchy-feely! Or is being grabbed by the throat a sappy thing for you?” Lovino protested, throwing his hands up.

Antonio only chuckled, sticking his tongue out a bit in a childish motion. “Touchy-feely for you!” he slurred out with a wink.

Lovino stuck the tip of his own tongue out in imitation immediately, before giving the tanned man a frown that didn't really reach his eyes nor mood, in fact, he could feel the corners of his mouth trying to twitch up into a smile. Just how much had he had? He couldn't even tell whether Antonio was having trouble staying upright or whether it was his own vision that was swaying as he had trouble staying still. Perhaps he should call it a night at this point, the last thing he needed was something embarrassing to occur, much less before Antonio. The thought of embarrassing himself before the man made his stomach give a small churn, eliciting a little frown from Lovino. _Guess I really am beginning to care._ He yawned, blinking his eyes, trying to focus as Antonio was babbling in front of him. He could barely follow the man’s slurred speech, giving some polite nods until there was a lull in Antonio’s talk.

“Yeah, yeah, listen, hey, I'm gonna head off for the night,” he interrupted, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. He stood up, only to let out a surprised cry as Antonio pushed his body forward, looping his arms round Lovino's waist.

“Waaaaait, Loviii, don't go! Weren't we drinking till dawn?”

Lovino looked down, blinking as he made out Antonio's grinning face staring up at him, caught in place by those arms locked around his waist. “It's only-” A glance to the clock, several blinks to focus. Ten already? Christ, time had flown, the drinks too, no wonder they were both so tipsy, “ten! Bar closes in two hours, we're not drinking till dawn!” he muttered, moving his hands down to try and get himself free. _Jeez, talk about being all over the place._ He didn't feel angry though, his stomach just felt slightly odd, the alcohol most probably, but instead of his expected explosive outburst he just stared down unimpressed, finding it partly humorous that he had just been worried about embarrassing himself to a man who was now acting like him leaving was the worst thing to happen.

“Well, best of friends _indeed_! Guess I was right,” came a giggling voice. He turned his head to see Manon grinning wide at the pair, resting on her elbows as she watched.

“Help me with the bastard, would you?” Lovino grunted, scowling and pointing one finger down at the man trapped around his waist as he tried to pry himself free from Antonio's grasp. “Get off, you goddamn moron, we'll do this another time so get the fuck off already.”

That casual promise of another time seemed to do the trick, and he felt Antonio loosen his grasp, leaning back against the bar, face a bit red, grinning like an idiot as usual. “Well then, night Lovi! Have a good rest!”

“You’re staying?”

Antonio flashed him a wink and his grin widened. “Francis is dropping by, but he won't be here for another forty minutes or so. I mean, unless you want me to walk home with yo-”

Lovino shushed him with a hand and gave him a neutral look, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over to Manon. “You take care of him, yeah?”

Antonio chuckled, swaying a bit on his stool. “I didn't know you cared-”

Manon interrupted him with a trilling laugh, a nod and a wide smile of her own. “Don't you worry!”

“I don't care and I'm not worried. It's more like making sure some senile dog can find its way home. Call it pity.” Lovino retorted, flashing her a grin.

“Will _you_ be OK?” Manon asked, tilting her head with a more serious look on her face.

Lovino huffed again. “ _I'm_ not a senile dog, so yes.” He gave the pair a nod, telling them goodnight as he grabbed his coat and headed out into the cold Autumn night air. Sighing as he stepped out, he pushed the collar of his coat up a bit as his breath misted in front of him. As he began to walk back – doing his best to keep in a straight line – his brain mused. There was a tightness in his chest. Antonio was certainly having an effect on him, despite all Lovino had done and said. It was almost infuriating, or it would be, if he didn't find himself beginning to enjoy the man's company more and more every time they found themselves together. His mind strayed to the warm, comforting feel of Antonio against him when Lovino had grabbed him, and from there to when Antonio had hugged him that time Lovino had driven him home, ten days earlier. He spat, shaking his head. Buried feelings were trying to claw their way up from the recess of his mind, memories he didn’t need, didn’t want, feelings that had no place here. He forced them down. _What a mess, from hating to... eh, all in a month._ He huffed, nostrils blowing twin small plumes of mist into the freezing airm and began to trudge home.


End file.
